


Letter J for John, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fiction, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-12
Updated: 2004-04-12
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 60,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Doggett celebrates his birthday in a way he'll never forget.





	Letter J for John, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Letter J for John, The

### Letter J for John, The

#### by Forbes

  


Title: The Letter J, for John. 

Author: Forbes 

Disclaimer: All the names you recognise from the TV or retail outlets belong to other people and Chris Carter. The rest are MINE! 

Summary: D/Sk. Doggett celebrates his birthday in a way he will never forget. 

Author's note: This will be the 7th and last episode in the Letters Universe. There is the death of a very minor (nameless) character in this story. Oh, and this won't make a jot of sense if you haven't read my previous story, 'Letters Out'. Sorry about that. Guess you'll just have to run along and find it to read! Thanks again to Georgia for the amazingly fast beta! And to Les and Shirley. You both know what for. 

* * *

chapter one 

"You touch that CD player and I'll break every one of your fingers," Skinner growled. Doggett just grinned and completed his move to eject the disc. 

Skinner sighed. "I get the feeling you don't take me seriously, Agent Doggett." 

"Nope. Not really." Doggett shook his head. "But you gotta admit, there's only so much Reba a man can be expected to take." 

"I happen to like Reba." 

"Hey! Me too - I am a southern boy, after all." He waved at the dashboard. "But I think four times round an album is the high end of even my southern constitution, Assistant Director." 

Skinner snorted. "Album? You're really showing your age now." 

"Yeah, well, bein' as it's my birthday trip, I get to show whatever I like." 

Taking the CD out of its slot, he replaced it with another one and hit the play button. "And as it IS my birthday trip, Reba's history." He threw the CD in the back seat with a grin. Leaning his head back and sighing as the drummer picked up the beat of the strings, he stretched out his arms to punch the air along to the instrumental start of Lonesome Day. "Oh yeah. Do it to me, Boss," he groaned, eyes shut. 

Glancing sideways he caught Skinner's expression and realized what he'd said. Smiles gave way to chuckles, then the sound of two men on a laughing jag filled the car. 

"Oh, shit!" 

"Jesus, Doggett!" 

"Hey! Keep your eyes on the fuckin' road, man!" 

Skinner held up a finger. "Keep your eyes on this." 

"Back at'cha, asshole," Doggett chided fondly, taking the finger in his hand and pulling it to his mouth for a quick suck. 

"God..."Skinner snatched glances at him between watching the steep incline and bends in the road. "You don't want to be doing that right now." 

The finger was pulled out of Doggett's mouth with a wet pop. "Yeah?" he grinned. "An' why's that?" Skinner eased the car around several severe corners before answering. 

"Because if you do that again I'll be forced to stop this car, drag you into the trees and fuck your ass into the forest floor, Agent Doggett." 

Laughing, Doggett shook his head. "Never happen. You're not the type." "You think?" 

Doggett stretched, easing the kinks out of his spine. "I know you too well, Walt. You're not gonna risk getting grass stains on your pants for anyone, not even me." 

"I might." 

"No way." He reached out and poked Skinner's shoulder. "You know I'm right." Skinner grunted. Doggett poked harder. "Admit it." 

Shrugging his shoulder away, Skinner shot him a hard stare. "So I'm boring and predictable? Just because I hate having to get chlorophyll out of my clothes when I'm on vacation?" 

"I would have said 'sensible'; not boring, okay?" 

"Hmmmm. Same thing." 

Doggett reached over and ran a hand up the strong thigh next to his. "Uh uh. Not the same at all." His quads jumping at the caress, Skinner braked a little too harshly on a right hand bend. 

"Woah! Easy, Tiger!" Doggett looked out of his window at the near vertical drop down the mountain. "We don't wanna take a trip down there." How the hell did trees manage to cling on to next to nothing he wondered, frowning. 

"We're fine. I got it." Skinner brought the car off the gravel edge to nearer the yellow lines. 

"Jeez..." The trees seemed to disappear at an alarmingly steep rate. "Helluva drop." 

"Calm down, you old woman. I'm in complete control." 

Doggett looked at him. "Yeah.... famous last words as we plunge down to meet the creek a million feet below us." 

"Don't exaggerate." 

"Don't fuckin' scare me, then." He glanced out again. "Jesus..." 

Not a great way to die, crashing headfirst into one of a hundred pine trees that peppered the hillside. Mountain, he corrected. They were driving up and down a mountain, several, in fact. And if it wasn't for the distraction of flirting and teasing with Walt, he'd be feeling more than a little car sick what with all the switchback turns and rolling inclines and sudden drops. Going up was fine, it was the braking and turning as they plunged downward that was taking the toll on his guts. He pulled his gaze away from the flashes of sunlight through the foliage and hypnotic passing of tree-trunks. 

"You think you're goin' a bit fast for this road?" 

Skinner raised his eyebrows. "What's the matter with you, all of a sudden?" 

"Nothin'," Doggett muttered, looking back outside and instantly regretting it. 

"I'm only doing 35." 

"Oh." 

Smiling, Skinner took his hand off the wheel to pat Doggett's knee. "Hey... relax. I'm not going to let you crash and burn on your birthday vacation." 

"Fuck you." 

Laughing, Skinner replaced his hand on the wheel again. "Later, maybe." 

One week ago. 

"Would you hurry up, already?" Mulder clucked impatiently. "Just open it!" 

Scully poked him in the ribs. "Behave, Mulder. It's John's gift, he is entitled to open it as slowly as he likes." 

Doggett opened the package carefully, wishing for the thousandth time that he and Skinner were alone. He knew it was unsociable and ungrateful to wish it, but he'd never been one for making a huge fuss out of a birthday. Skinner, it seemed, had other ideas. To Doggett's mild distress, he'd invited Scully and her minion over to the house for coffee and cake. 

"I'm making it last," he said, peeling back another corner. "At my age, it pays to make things last." As silence descended Doggett felt a sharp finger poke him in the back as Skinner let him know he disapproved of the comment. Doggett smothered a grin. 

"It'll be Christmas before you get into it at this rate," Scully smiled. "And too late to return it." 

"Y'think I'm gonna take it back?" Doggett smiled. 

"Possibly." 

"Wow, what d'ya get me?" 

Mulder's hands flew up in the air. "If you'd just get a move on, you'd see!" 

Doggett shook his head, tutting. "Patience, Muldah. Patience." Deliberately going even more slowly, he folded back the bright blue paper and paused. A long box with tissue paper inside. That didn't bode well. In his experience, long boxes with tissue paper more often than not heralded expensive neckwear atrocities. Being male with many female relatives, he had plenty of nasty ties hidden in the back of the closet. He schooled his face in anticipation and pulled back the paper. 

No surprises there. A dark blue tie nestled in the paper. Not too bad. Doggett relaxed slightly. He'd been on the receiving end of a dozen more revolting than this. He might even be able to wear this one. "Hey, that's nice," he said, almost meaning it. In truth, he was a little disappointed at Scully's choice of gifts. He hadn't thought she was one of the tie-buying brigade. He'd thought she'd had more class. Or more imagination. 

Scully cleared her throat. "It's um..." She pointed. "I think it's the right one. I checked up on your records." He looked up at her and she smiled, blushing slightly. "Yeah?" He frowned and looked back at the box in his hands. Pulling out the strip of silk, he peered closely. What had first appeared to be merely a regular pattern revealed itself to be a tiny emblem in a slightly lighter color blue than the rest of the tie. Doggett held it closer. 

"Better look into getting a prescription, Doggett. Your eyesight's going." Ignoring Mulder's attempt at humor, Doggett studied the emblem and held his breath as it became clear. It was his Marine Corps badge. Beautifully embroidered across the length of the tie. "My God..." he whispered, taken aback. He held it up and stared. 

"I trust you don't mind me poking around in your service record," Scully said, fidgeting in her chair, clearly uncomfortable with the long silence. "I hope it's okay." Doggett finally pulled his eyes away from the tie and his mind away from the myriad of images and memories that had come crashing into his head at the sight of the crest. He looked into Scully's eyes and smiled. 

"It's beautiful, Dana," he said, aware and not caring that his voice sounded rougher than it had five minutes ago. "Really, it's just..." He swallowed. "It's perfect." 

"I'm glad." She smiled a little shyly. "Men are such bears to buy for. I never know..." She hesitated as Doggett rose from his seat and approached her. "What to get..." She trailed off.  
Crouching down in front of her, Doggett smiled. He was enormously touched that she'd taken the effort to give him something so personal. "Thank you." He held it up again. "I love it. I will wear it proudly." Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you." 

He moved to sit back down as a flood of color washed all over Scully's face. He hid a grin and glanced at Skinner. The other man was smiling, highly amused at Scully's face. "I suppose you had a hand in this?" Doggett challenged. 

The bald head shook. "Nope. I didn't know anything about it. Let me see?" Doggett handed over the tie, not convinced. "It's great," Skinner nodded, turning it in his hands. Doggett made a mental note to ask Scully where she bought it, hoping he could get one for Skinner. 

"Thanks," he told her again. He watched Skinner examine the tie. He couldn't wait to wear it. "I'm gonna wear it on Monday," he announced. He looked up and grinned at Scully. "And probably every day for the next three weeks." 

"You think so?" Skinner said, handing it back. 

"Yep." 

"Ah..." 

Doggett looked up. What was that tone for? "What d'you mean, 'ah'? I'm gonna wear it to work, okay?" 

"Maybe." 

"Huh?" Doggett frowned at Skinner's grin. "You know something I don't?" 

"Maybe." 

On the floor near Scully's chair, Mulder snorted. "I get it... You bought him a tie too!" 

Scully laughed. "You didn't!"  
Skinner just smiled enigmatically. Doggett couldn't imagine that his lover would have bought him a tie for his birthday. He wouldn't be that boring. Would he? "What did you get him?" Mulder asked, shuffling forward. "You didn't get him a tie, did you?" 

Skinner shook his head. "No, I didn't." 

"Well?" Mulder pressed. "What did you get him?" 

Doggett looked over at the other man. "What is it with you and birthdays, Muldah? You're just a big kid, aren't you?" 

Mulder shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe." He shook his head. "Whatever. But what d'you get him?" Still smiling, Skinner reached behind and pulled an envelope from his back pocket. He held it out to Doggett. "Happy birthday, John."  
Doggett placed the tie on his knee and slowly reached for the white envelope. "What is it?" 

"You'll have to open it to find that out. But...." Skinner pulled it away as Doggett's fingers grazed it. "It's non-refundable or returnable, so this is it." 

"Yeah?" Doggett grinned. "What if I don't like it?" 

"You will." 

Taking the envelope, Doggett was puzzled. Skinner had already given him breakfast in bed, a pair of new running shoes and a terrific blowjob. He'd fully expected that to be it. He wondered when the other man had had time to go gift-shopping for anything else. "So what is it?" he repeated, picking at the edges. 

"You're really not good at this birthday gift-thing, are you, Doggett?" Mulder sighed. 

"Outta practice," Doggett replied, mentally kicking himself for giving that away. The admission made him sound like a sad sack. He concentrated on ripping open the envelope so he wouldn't be forced to look at anyone else. He frowned, pulling out what looked like two airline tickets. "What?.." He held them up. One had his name on it, the other, Skinner's. 

"I had a word with your boss," Skinner was saying. "Apparently you booked two week's vacation some time ago. Effective as of tomorrow." 

Doggett looked up at him, shocked. "What the hell?" 

"So I guess you'll have to wait to wear your new tie to work." 

"Wha..."Doggett looked down at the tickets again. Washington to San Francisco. This Sunday. Returning in two weeks time. "What the hell?" 

"I made sure I booked my vacation 2 months before yours. All the paperwork is done. Officially, I'm going to be in Mexico. You're supposed to be in Canada. It's settled." Doggett gaped, first at the tickets, then over at Skinner. His mind was having trouble playing catch-up. "A vacation together?" 

"Uh huh. 2 weeks." 

"Tomorrow?" 

"San Francisco." 

"But..." 

"No buts. You're going. We're going. You need a break." He grinned. "Happy birthday." 

Doggett sat there, mouth hanging open as Skinner laughed at him. He had an idea that the other two were laughing too, but he was just too stunned to glance over. A vacation? He hadn't taken a vacation in... He frowned. How long had it been? He couldn't remember. Maybe that was the point. 

"I don't know what to say..." 

Skinner shrugged. "Say you'll go."  
Doggett let a moment pass before a slow smile spread over his face. His mind was already racing ahead to the west coast, relative privacy and two weeks with his lover. "I'll go." 

chapter two 

"Pass me the snacks?" Skinner held his hand out. "I'm starving." 

Doggett rolled his eyes. "Jesus, man! You ate more than me at breakfast. Somethin's wrong with you." He handed Skinner a bag of pretzels. "Worms, or somethin'." 

"Must be all the hard-core sex I'm getting," Skinner grinned, tossing a couple of small snacks in his mouth. "Yeah, I guess so." Doggett couldn't resist smiling at that. He had to admit they'd been going at it like bunnies since arriving at SFO. They had barely gotten through the hotel room door before falling onto each other. And that seemed to be the recipe for the next week. Sex before breakfast, a quickie in the afternoon and a long drawn out session in the evenings. No wonder they were both starving and borderline exhausted. Sex and sightseeing. What a combination. 

"Better make sure you start gettin' some rest then." He smirked at the look Skinner gave him. 

"You'd better not." 

"Enjoyin' yourself, then?" 

Skinner took his eyes off the road for a distressingly long time. "What do you think? I get you all to myself for the next two weeks. No work, no distractions and no one looking over our shoulders. Makes for a pretty good vacation, I think." 

Nodding at the windshield, Doggett squirmed. "The road, Walt. The road..." 

"Uh huh." Skinner went back to concentrating on the curves of the blacktop. "So how are you liking it?" 

"Your driving?" Doggett snorted. "Pretty fuckin' atrocious, if y'ask me. You tryin' to give me heart failure?" 

Skinner glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "I meant the trip." 

Reaching over to place his hand on the back of Skinner's neck, Doggett turned the other man's head forward before speaking. "It's wonderful, man. Just great. I love it." 

"Yeah?" 

"Really." Doggett squeezed the strong neck. "It's been a long time since I've been this relaxed." Skinner tried to turn to look at him. "Keep your eyes on the road, Walt." 

Staring forward, Skinner smiled softly. "You mean that?" 

"I sure do." Doggett squeezed again. "You're gonna kill us, else," he teased. 

"Asshole. About the..." 

"I really mean it, Walter. Okay? I'm havin' a great time. I love San Francisco. I love the whole touristy thing. I love you, okay?" He dug his fingers in harder. "Not so crazy 'bout your drivin' skills..." 

"Bastard," Skinner grumbled, but there was no real venom in his voice. 

They drove in silence for a while, just watching the endless procession of trees that covered the Sierra foothills, taking in the sweep of the mountains and the endless blue sky, peeping out between peaks. "What's your favorite part so far?" 

Doggett thought for a moment. "Alcatraz," he said at last. 

"Yeah?" 

"Definitely." 

"Not Castro?" Skinner asked with a smile in his voice. 

Doggett laughed. Their visit to the gay capital of the city had been a drunken, wonderful experience and one he wasn't going to forget in a hurry. They had spent the whole day just hanging out, wandering in the many gay-oriented shops, having lunch in a trendy gay bistro and lounging bare-chested in the park in a blaze of early warm weather. All the time in the company of countless other like-minded men. It had been a revelation and a relief not to have to careful about personal space and inappropriate touching. The day had culminated in both of them having too much to drink in a loud dance club and weaving their way down Castro holding hands in a mad fit of playing 'dare' that neither could remember instigating. 

"Nah. It was great, an' all, but I think my money's still on The Rock." 

"The walk back to the hotel too much, huh?" 

Doggett laughed again. "Jeez! I thought that cop was gonna take us in!" 

"In Castro? Get real." 

"I meant for the singing." 

Skinner grinned. "I still think you could go places with your Nessun Dorma." 

"I can just imagine where." Digging around in a packet of glazed pecans, Doggett snagged a couple and tossed them into his mouth. "Nah. The Rock." He nodded. "That was my favorite." 

Skinner nodded. "Yeah, okay. It was pretty good." 

They drove for a while longer, Doggett throwing pecans in his mouth, offering the odd one to the other man. "You okay about this?" Skinner asked eventually. 

"You mean these endless fuckin' trees?" 

Laughing, Skinner glanced over at him. "You urban philistine!" 

"Hey! I'm just missin' the concrete, is all." He waved towards the road. "There's only so much of this I can take, y'know." 

"I thought that was Reba?" 

"Ha-ha. I mean the wilderness." He pulled a face. "I miss the city." 

"The dirt, pollution and crime?" 

Doggett grinned at the look on Skinner's face. "Yep. All that." 

"God..." Shaking his head, Skinner chewed a pecan and sighed. 

Doggett laughed. There had been hours of gentle teasing between them over their different views of what a perfect vacation entailed. Skinner was the original wilderness man, while he resolutely preferred pounding the sidewalks and roads, reveling in the stimulation of the city. He knew that the trip to San Francisco was an unspoken declaration of love from the older man as there was no way Walter Skinner would actually choose to spend his down-time in a major city. And he appreciated that more than Skinner might realize. 

"That wasn't what I meant, anyway." 

"Oh?" Doggett threw the empty pecan bag into the backseat, grinning at Skinner's disapproving face. "What did y'mean, then?" 

Shrugging, Skinner glanced up as a logging truck thundered past down the road. "You know. Going where we're going." 

Doggett was silent. It wasn't a matter of him giving in to Walt's rural tendencies, this part of the trip was unplanned, unscheduled and totally, utterly terrifying. He took a few deep breaths and nodded. "I think so." 

"You think so?" Skinner glanced over at him. "John, you need to be more certain than that. This is..." 

"I know, I know." Doggett rubbed his forehead. 

"We don't have to do it. We can just carry on driving to Sacramento - stay there." 

Pinching his eyes shut, Doggett gave the idea careful consideration. Part of him thought that was a perfect plan. Go see the old part of the town, stay in some old-fashioned hotel on the main street and just hang out before going back to the city. But another, tougher part was resolutely insisting that he at least try to do what they had planned. Whatever the outcome. 

He sighed. "No. That's okay. Let's do it." 

"Sure?" 

He barked a short laugh. "No, but what the hell. I need to just..." He shrugged, watching another truck roar past. "I need to at least see him. Even if it's just from across the street, you know?" 

The previous week 

The phone had rung just as Doggett and Scully were engaged in a good-natured argument about which one of them should get the biggest piece of birthday cake as a second helping. As Skinner answered it, Scully stabbed her finger in the icing and licked it clean. "There... Mine," she announced with a grin. 

"Y'think?" Doggett did exactly the same. 

"Hey!" 

Mulder stood with his arms folded, regarding the two of them. "You know, I'd have gotten a slap by now, Doggett. What is it you've got that I haven't?" 

Pulling Scully's hand away from the prize, Doggett laughed. "Charm... looks... a personality..." 

"Hey..." Mulder frowned. 

"You asked." 

"It was a rhetorical question." 

Scully's hand shot out and daubed a gob of icing on the end of Doggett's nose, and as he stepped back to wipe it off, she grabbed the slice and made off with it. "You..." 

"John." Skinner waved the phone. "It's for you." Grumbling to himself, Doggett gave Scully a glare and sucked the chocolate goo from his fingers. He held a warning hand up to her. "Just you wait..."He looked at Skinner. 

"Who is it?" 

"Sal." 

Doggett grinned. He hoped she'd remember to call. Waving his hand, he noticed a spot of chocolate on the back and licked it off, raising Skinner's eyebrow. "Put her on speaker, will ya?" Skinner poked a button on the phone and Doggett shouted across the kitchen. "Hi there, Babe!" 

"Hi, Johnny. Happy birthday!" 

He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "Thank you. How ya doin', Hon?" 

"Great, big brother, just great. Especially as this birthday makes you even older than me!" 

"Jeez! It's my big day and everyone's pickin' on me." 

"Awwww. Poor baby. How's it goin'? You get loads of great gifts?" 

Wiping the last of the icing off on the back of his hand, Doggett nodded as he walked closer to the receiver. "Yep. Sure did. Looks like I'm goin' on vacation to San Francisco with Walt." 

"God, that's great!" 

"An' Dana got me a real cool Marine tie." He looked over at his partner and smiled. She could have the biggest piece of cake if she wanted. 

"Who's a lucky boy, then? Did ya get mine?" 

"I did." He glanced down at his sweater. 

"You like? I really wish I coulda been with you today." She laughed. "Just to see your face when you opened it." 

Doggett grunted. "I shoulda known you'd pick out something like this." 

"You hate it, don't you?" 

"Nah. I got it on as we speak." His fingers unconsciously fiddled with the bottom of his sweater. "Won't be wearing it to the office anytime soon, but I think Walt'd like to see me wear it in bed, some." He grinned over to Skinner, who pulled a face and walked back over to him. He leaned in and spoke down the phone. 

"I would not. And although it's very cute, I'm not sure it's really bedroom material, Sarah Doggett." 

She laughed delightedly. "But it's just so 'John', isn't it?" 

Skinner pulled at the bottom of Doggett's sweater, lifting it up. He grimaced as the picture revealed itself. 

"Well, I don't know about that." 

"Oh, come on! You know him better than me!" 

"I guess," Skinner replied, winking at Doggett. 

Across the room, Scully peered over. "What is it?" 

"That you, Dana?" Sal shouted. 

"Yes it is. Hi there, Sally." 

"I suppose Muldah's there, too? 

"Naturally," Mulder smirked across the kitchen, reaching over to snatch a fingerful of Scully's cake. 

"Hey Fox... Did you get it?" 

Mulder studied the floor while the other three people in the room exchanged blank looks. 

"Yeah," Mulder replied at last. "I did." 

"Well? You gonna do it?" 

Mulder sighed. "I haven't decided yet." 

"Remember what I told you..." Sal's voice scolded gently. "If he doesn't..." 

"I know. I remember." 

"Okay then." 

Doggett stared at Mulder in confusion. "Is there somethin' goin' on between you and my sister I should know about?" he demanded, already pretty much sure how he felt about that. Sally laughed long-distance. "Oh, yeah, right. I don't think so!" 

Mulder pouted. "Gee, thanks, Sally." 

"Sorry, Fox, but you're just not my type." She chuckled. "Now, if we were talkin' Walter..." 

Doggett groaned. "Let's not go there, huh? Not on my birthday." He watched Scully's eyebrows shoot into her hairline. She opened her mouth and Doggett dreaded what was going to come out of it. He really didn't feel like explaining how his sister felt about Walter Skinner. 

Scully cleared her throat. "So, Sally - I'm very curious. Tell me, what's on this shirt, then?" 

"Hey! I thought Dogbreath said he had it on?" 

"I just see a brown sweater," Scully told her, looking smugly at Doggett standing with a pained expression. 

"John! You lying heap of..." 

Doggett rolled his eyes. "Keep your panties on, woman - I AM wearing it." 

"God, you are such a liar!" 

"Jeez, Sal..." Taking the hem of his sweater in his hands, he pulled it up over his head in one exaggerated movement. Throwing it across the table, he turned to show Scully, hands out to his sides. "See?" 

Choking slightly, Scully wiped crumbs from her mouth. "Oh," she said. 

"Has he really got it on, Dana?" 

"Um..." Scully's face began to crack open. She smiled widely. "I think so." 

"Yeah? Suits him, doesn't it?" 

"Um..." Scully hesitated. "I never really thought of John as a Disney fan, to be honest." 

Sally's laughter echoed through the kitchen. "Gotta admit it's appropriate, given his appetite, though?" 

Glancing down at the cake in her hand, Scully chuckled. "I suppose." She looked up at Doggett and tilted her head to one side. "Piglet," she said, trying not to laugh outright. 

"Oh, ha-ha," Doggett pulled a face. "Very funny. Look, I got the damn thing on, what more d'you want?" 

"And are you also wearing the matchin' items, baby?" The amusement in her voice was evident. 

Doggett sighed. "Yeah. I am." 

"Matching?" Mulder looked from Skinner to Doggett and back again, his face a picture of curiosity. 

Sighing dramatically, Doggett lifted the shirt to poke a couple of fingers into the waistband of his pants to fish out the top of his boxers. The word 'Piglet' was embroidered all around the edge in blue and pink thread. He stood looking at the others, listening to the various snorts and giggles. "You hear that?" he asked the phone. "I'm gonna be a laughing stock at the Bureau now." 

"Yeah, yeah. Poor Johnny. Hey... you still love me?" 

Grunting, he snapped the elastic back and yanked the shirt down. "Would I be wearing the damn things, otherwise? But you'd just better watch out when it's your birthday, young lady." 

"Ooh! I'm frightened!" 

"Yeah, you'd better be." He watched warily as Scully approached with the cake in her hand and solemnly handed it over, a grin all over her face. "But these aside, I did like the book, thank you," he added, sniffing the cake. "Just what I wanted." 

"I know. But Lord knows, Johnny, don't you get enough of that stuff at work?" 

He laughed. "I tell you, babe; straightforward crime thrillers are a light relief compared to work." 

She grunted. "Take your word for it. Look, honey, I gotta fly. Hot date!" 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't sound so doubtful, you pig!" 

"Oink, oink, baby. You go have a great time - and thanks for callin' me." 

"No prob, darlin'. Happy birthday, Johnny. Love you." 

"Me too. Bye." 

The phone buzzed emptily as she rang off. Doggett looked down at the plate in his hand. "And this is supposed to mean what?" he asked pointedly. 

She shrugged. "Nothing at all." Glancing down at her watch, she raised an eyebrow. "We'd better be making tracks. It's getting late." 

Scully wiped her sticky hands on a napkin. "We'll leave you now. Thank you for the cake. And the invite." 

Skinner nodded. "You're very welcome." 

Doggett crossed the kitchen. "And thank you for my wonderful tie. "I can't wait to wear it." He glanced over at Skinner, smiling. 

"I look forward to seeing it." 

Gathering her jacket and purse, she made her way to the door, Mulder trailing after her. "You have a great time. I want to see lots of photographs when you get back." 

Doggett laughed. "We'll see. I'm not much of one for taking photos." 

Scully held her finger up. "Lots, you hear?" 

Skinner stood at Doggett's shoulder. "There will be lots. I'm going to make sure of it." 

Scully nodded. She looked at Mulder. "Come on. Let's leave these people in peace." 

Doggett looked at Mulder, wondering if he should say thank you for coming, considering the other man hadn't really looked as if he'd been entirely comfortable with them. He wondered what was going on inside that strange mind. Maybe it had all been too much, seeing him and Skinner like this. Relaxed and happy. It was one thing to see them at work, in their buttoned-down formal roles and quite another to see them off-duty and informal. Doggett felt a stab of pity. It couldn't be easy for the other man. 

"Thanks for coming, Muldah," he said, offering his hand in a burst of compassion. 

"Um... yeah." Mulder took the hand and gave it a quick shake. Doggett wondered if he was going to say something, then the moment passed as Scully tugged at his sleeve. 

"Come on, Mulder." 

Looking down at her hand, Mulder seemed distracted. "Yeah." 

Ushering them through the door, Skinner and Scully discussed restaurants on the west coast and the merits of taking the tour aboard the USS Pampalito. Doggett frowned. Mulder wasn't following. He hung back in the doorway, fidgeting. "You okay?" he asked quietly. 

Nodding, Mulder worried at his bottom lip. "Yeah. I just wanted to..." he hesitated. 

There was a stark moment when Doggett thought he was going to lean over and try to snatch a kiss, but then Mulder sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket. "Look," he began. "I called your sister some time ago about what to get you for your birthday." 

Doggett began to speak. "You didn't have..." 

Mulder held up a hand. "I know. I'm not good at the whole gift-thing, either. Anyway, we got to talking, and she happened to mention something that got me thinking. So..." He shrugged and handed Doggett a scruffy, torn-off piece of paper, folded in half. "I thought this would be better than something you shove in the back of your closet." He nearly smirked at that. 

Taking the scrap of paper, Doggett frowned. "Thank you," he said, baffled as to what he had to be grateful for, but natural manners insisted he say it. 

"Hey... I don't know if you'll want it, or will even thank me for it, later." He shrugged. "But I guess it's up to you if you want to do anything about it." 

Doggett fingered the paper, not opening it yet. "Okay." 

"Just, well... happy birthday, I guess." Nodding, Mulder paused, then obviously not thinking of anything else to add, moved away into the hall. 

"Muldah..." Doggett stepped after him and held the scrap of paper up. "What is this?" 

"Your choice," Mulder replied with a typical enigmatic shrug of his shoulder. "It's whatever you want to do with it." 

Doggett pulled a face. "What?" 

"It's knowledge, Doggett. Knowledge." Not looking at Skinner or Scully, he loped away, swinging his car keys and whistling tunelessly. 

The others exchanged glances. "What was that all about?" Skinner asked. 

"Damned if I know," Doggett replied looking at the paper in his hand. He looked at Scully. "You know anything 'bout this?" 

She shook her head. "News to me." She peered at his hand. 

Skinner joined them. "Looks as if it's been in his pocket for a week." Doggett grimaced and held the paper further away. "Want me to get exam gloves so you can open it then?" Walt grinned, lightly nudging his arm. 

"Very funny." Doggett glanced down to the car where Mulder sat, fiddling with the radio. The sound of lightening-quick channel changes filtered through the car windows. 

He used his thumb to flip open the paper. There was nothing on it but 2 names and an address written in Mulder's distinctively horrendous handwriting. Doggett read it twice before the realization hit him and all of a sudden, he wanted to sit down. The words read: Michael Huckabee, (Michael Doggett) 21391 Crooked Mile Placerville CA. 94030 

chapter three 

The weather had been kind the last week and today was no exception. It was warm enough to crank the A/C up a notch and drink copious amounts of soda from the cooler in the back. Unfortunately the side effect of keeping cool was the need to take regular bathroom breaks, despite there being no bathrooms per se on the side of the Sierra foothills. 

"Pull over when you get the chance, will you?" Doggett squirmed. "I need to drain the lizard." 

"Uh huh." Skinner slowed and began to keep watch for a turn off. Typically, they had just passed one which meant Doggett was doomed to spend at least five more minutes wriggling in his seat. "You know," Skinner mused. "Nothing has passed us for a while now. In either direction..." he glanced across. 

"And?" 

"Just wondered if you'd care to disprove your theory about me and grass stains." 

Doggett laughed. "Jeez! You pervert! Can't you think of anything but your dick for a minute?" 

"It's been hours," Skinner complained. 

"Hours... God, listen to yourself. We can go weeks sometimes." 

Skinner grunted. "Not through choice, I tell you." 

Flattered, Doggett ran his fingers down the square jaw. "You're some kinda man, you know that, Mr. Skinner?" 

"Can't help it if you're a sexy sack of shit, even wearing that ridiculous shirt." 

Snorting, Doggett flicked the ear nearest his finger. "Just for that, I might just keep my virtue to myself. What's wrong with the shirt?" He puffed out his chest, looking down. 

Skinner grinned. "Nothing. I'm sure Sal'd be delighted that you're actually wearing it in public." 

"Public?" Doggett glanced out of the window. "We haven't seen a soul in hours." 

"Don't exaggerate," Skinner told him with a teasing scowl. "So..." He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head towards the window. "You don't want to give it a go?" 

Doggett pursed his lips and suppressed a smile. "I might be persuaded." Skinner sped up, looking back and forth for the nearest turning place. 

After what felt like an eternity, Doggett shouted "There!" and pointed to the side of the road. Skinner indicated right, skidded a little but made it into pull-off without hitting any of the tress at the side of the road. "Jesus!" Doggett removed his hand from the upright support of the windscreen. "I think I just pissed my pants." 

"Save time, then." Flipping off the engine, the big man grinned and unbuckled his seat belt. "Come on then. Race you to the trees." He was out of the car and striding across the tarmac before Doggett had even unfastened himself from his seat. 

"Jesus..." he muttered, following at a sensible pace. "Are you on some kinda sex-drug, Skinner?" 

Laughing, the bigger man pulled him behind a large pine tree. "Nope. Just being with you is drug enough." He took Doggett's face in his hands and kissed him. 

It was warm and deep, slow, but with an edge of urgency about it that said volumes about how Skinner felt about Doggett, but even more about the state of Doggett's bladder. Finally, he put his hands to Skinner's shoulders and pushed him back, pausing to lick his way sensuously out of the embrace. "Jeez... Dammit Walter..." He winced and put his hand down to his crotch. "I can't do this when I need to piss." 

Running warm thumbs up and down Doggett's jawline, Skinner chuckled, then swooped down to kiss him again, sliding his tongue between pursed lips with little or no resistance. Doggett mumbled a protest around the kiss, his actions belying his words as he tilted his head to get a better angle. He could feel his dick rising up in his pants despite his protests. It pushed insistently at the zipper of his jeans, letting him know in no uncertain terms that what Skinner was doing to him was appreciated. 

"Hummmphff" He shoved Skinner away with more force. Enough was enough. "Get off, I love you an' all, but I gotta piss so bad I can't think straight." 

Skinner laughed and pushed him playfully against the tree. "Piglet 'Peanut Bladder' Doggett." 

"Fuck you." Doggett flipped him the bird, willing his hard-on away. "God..." He rolled his eyes and stared up at the treetops thinking about paperwork, tax forms and anything remotely unsexy. 

"You want a hand with that?" Skinner crept up behind and ran his hand over the front of Doggett's worn jeans, making him jump. 

"No I fuckin' don't," Doggett laughed, shoving the hand away. "I'm tryin' to concentrate, here." 

"Hhmmmmm." Warm breath ruffled the back of Doggett's neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Skinner..." 

With blatant disregard to the warning tone, Skinner began to gently lick the back of Doggett's ear, trailing his tongue up and down the edge. "Fuck..." Doggett leaned back, his eyes slipping shut. "Don't do that," he whispered. Skinner mumbled something and began to suckle on the skin underneath Doggett's jaw. "Goddammit!" Pulling away, Doggett wiped at the moisture. "I gotta piss, for Chrissake!" He laughed, stepping out of Skinner's range. "Look. I tell you what... Let me take a leak in peace and then..." He glanced around. Not a soul, not a sound for what was probably miles around. Perfect opportunity for a little fresh air frolic. "Then we'll do somethin'. Okay?" 

Skinner's face lit up. "Yeah? I get to choose what?" 

Doggett rolled his eyes. "I guess so." He couldn't believe what he was agreeing to. The way Skinner's libido was working this past week, he was going to find himself leaning up against some big old tree with his lover buried to the hilt inside him if the look on Skinner's face was anything to go by. Not that that was a bad thing. He just needed to get comfortable first. "What d'you have in mind?" he asked, suspecting he already knew the answer. 

Skinner grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I don't know... I'll think of something." 

"I bet you will." He reached for his zipper. "Go get what we need, then." 

Skinner pecked a quick kiss on his cheek, turned to go back to the car, then paused. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" 

"What? Sex outdoors or pissing against a tree?" 

"The sex. You know..." He stopped, his face serious. "In the light of what we're going to do. Are you sure you're in the mood?" 

Doggett sighed. "You know, I could use a little action to take my mind off it, you know?" 

"I know." 

Doggett smiled. "I know you know. And I appreciate you bein' here, Walt. And whatever happens - or doesn't happen - I'm gonna need you." 

Skinner nodded. "You got me." 

"Thank you. Now go get the stuff outta the car while I take care of business." He jerked his chin away, grinning as he unzipped and reached inside. 

Almost a week ago. 

Lying on the bed dressed in just his birthday boxers, Doggett stared at the piece of paper in his hand. Two names and an address. Not much to look at, but as explosive as dynamite. Damn Mulder for eclipsing Walt's gift and the entire birthday with one scruffy scrap of paper. It didn't seem right that all the wondering he'd done about his lost brother had been reduced to this. All the 'should he' or should he nots' taken away and replaced with a 'you can if you want'. The fantasy subprogram he'd been running at the back of his head ever since finding out about Michael had been wiped away, leaving stark reality pinched between his fingers. 

The abstract concept that he had another sibling somewhere had been much more ephemeral than having his name and address in his hand. It made it real, somehow. And a good deal more complicated. Before today he could pretend it was too hard to trace someone. Before today he could just run the program in his head and be content. Now, everything was different.  
"You still thinking about it?" Skinner emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his chest dry. 

"Kinda hard to ignore, I'm afraid," Doggett sighed, crumpling the paper in his fist. 

"Hey..." Skinner took his hand and gently unfolded it, taking the paper out and smoothing it. "Talk to me. What do you want to do about it?" He placed the paper safely on the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Doggett wearily rubbed his eyes. "Oh, God... I don't know. One minute I feel like charging up there and throwing myself at his front door and saying: Look! It's me!" He pulled a face. "Then the next I wanna just ignore it and pretend I never saw the damned thing." 

"I can't begin to imagine how you feel," Skinner said, running his hand up Doggett's bare thigh. 

"I tried to trace him, a while back." 

Skinner's hand stilled. "You did?" 

Running his hands through his hair, Doggett sighed. "I didn't say anything 'cos nothing came of it. I tried running him through the Child Services Records, Juvie Adoptions and stuff..." He shook his head. "Nada." 

"Those records are closed, aren't they?" 

"Yep. They sure are." 

"Weren't you tempted to..." Skinner shrugged. "Wave your badge?" 

"Nah... I don't know. I guess I was kinda lookin' for an excuse to leave well enough alone." He rested his head back and stared at the opposite wall without seeing it. Half of him had been relieved to run into brick walls in the search. It made for a divide between his life now and an uncertainty. But Mulder had pulled those walls down and left nothing but rubble and excuses. 

"What would you do?" he asked, laying his hand over Skinner's. 

"I can't tell you that." 

"Try. Please." 

"No... What I mean is that I can't try to tell you what you should do." 

Doggett smiled. "That obvious, huh?" 

"Transparent." He shook his head. "But if it was me? I wouldn't be able to help myself. I'd have to make contact." He shrugged. "But then, I don't have any siblings. You have Sal. I don't know if it makes a difference." 

Doggett sighed. "Not really. Just means I know what I've missed, I reckon. Would've quite liked a brother nearer my age than a baby sister." He shook his head. "No. That's not fair. Sal's great. I love her. I'm just..." He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. "Disappointed, is all." 

"Yeah. It's okay to feel that." 

"What about 'angry'?" 

Skinner nodded. "Yes. And cheated, too."Doggett looked at him. "You missed out on growing up with a brother. You get to feel all those things. I'm sure Sal feels that way, too." 

Nodding, Doggett stretched up to yawn. "Uh huh. She does. We talked for the longest time while you were at the store." 

"And?" 

He shrugged. "She was of a mind to get on a plane and speed up there herself, if I didn't." He laughed. "I reckon if school was out, she'd be on her way now." 

"So she thinks you should take the opportunity to meet him?" 

Sighing, Doggett sat up. "Yes, she does. She wants me to go up there while we're in California and introduce myself. Ourselves." 

"How do you feel about doing that?" 

"It's a plan, I guess." He fiddled with the hem of his boxers. 

"So? You want to do it?" 

He looked up. "Would you mind? It means interrupting our vacation." 

Leaning forward, Skinner touched his lips to Doggett's in a gentle kiss. "If it's what you need to do, then I'm right there with you. It's not that far and we'll get to see a bit more of California while we're at it." He shrugged. "And we could go see the place where they filmed xXx. Up Route 80 near Auburn, I think." 

Doggett smiled. "I thought you said you didn't like that one." 

Skinner grinned. "I may have exaggerated a little." 

"After the hard time you gave me about rentin' it! " Doggett punched his arm. "You bastard." 

Laughing, Skinner fended off another punch. "Yeah. Get over it, cry-baby." He took Doggett's hands and held them out to his sides. "Now then... Come here. I think the birthday boy needs a little TLC, don't you?" 

"Maybe." 

"Not maybe..." 

Placing his mouth on Doggett's neck, Skinner began to gently suck. Doggett squirmed, laughing. "Hey... that tickles!" He pulled his hands free and pushed at Skinner's shoulders. "Fuck off!" 

Skinner brought his nose close up to Doggett's. "You wanna try and make me, boy?" 

Doggett shivered. He didn't know what it said about him that he loved it when Skinner went into caveman mode, but he wasn't planning on bringing it up for discussion at the next management meeting. Just as he was damned sure he wouldn't take being called 'boy' by any other man on the planet. 

He grinned. "I might." 

"So you think you're tough enough?" Skinner's voice was low and rough. His eyes had narrowed to brown slits. 

"Maybe." Doggett felt his pulse rate increase in anticipation. Skinner gave a feral grin. 

They stared at one another for a heartbeat, then Doggett broke left, making a dive for the end of the bed in an attempt to get away. He didn't get far before Skinner's larger frame descended on his back, pinning him to the mattress. The air rushed out of Doggett's lungs in a delicious huff as he was crushed beneath his lover. He struggled, trying to get leverage to force Skinner up, but his arms just couldn't raise him more than a few inches. "Bastard..." he gasped, grinning. 

"Bet your sweet ass," Skinner growled into his ear. He followed the comment up with a wet licking kiss sweeping up from the lobe to the tip. Doggett's whole body shivered, squirming wildly at the sensation of a tongue in his ear. "Jesus Christ, Skinner..."   
His lobe was sucked between sharp teeth and bitten gently. 

"Hush, now." 

Doggett stilled, feeling the huff of Skinner's breath in his ear, sending crazy messages of revulsion and excitement up and down his spine. He could feel Skinner's roughened palms sliding over his body, seeking out a weakness, a point at which he could burrow under his body to flip him over. They slid down his sides to his hips, grazing the elastic of his shorts with a small snap. "Give it up..." Skinner breathed. 

"Fuck you," Doggett gasped. 

That got a chuckle. "Oh, I intend to." 

Strong fingers dug into Doggett's flesh, just this side of painful, adding to the excitement. He wriggled, not only to resist, but in order to feel the growing evidence of Skinner's enjoyment that was wedged in the small of his back. He pushed up against the erection, reveling in the groan that rumbled out into his ear. There was a sudden flare of pain in his shoulder. His head came up with a jerk. "Fuck! You bit me!" He tried to turn his head to look, but found it roughly forced down to the bed. 

"I'm gonna do more than that," Skinner promised, applying his teeth to the back of Doggett's neck. He sucked hard, using his teeth to scrape the flesh. 

Doggett yelped in protest. It didn't really hurt all that much, in fact it felt wildly erotic. Despite his noisy protests, he secretly enjoyed the chance to be vocal when they made love like this. Skinner grinned. The feel of the wriggling man under him, the taste of his perspiration and the sound of his cries pushed all of his primal buttons. He pressed down with his one arm, using the other to squirm down to Doggett's shorts. With a savage tug, he yanked them down past his buttocks. "You're gonna take this," he whispered. "Whether you want to or not." 

The low threat made Doggett struggle harder, his own erection digging painfully into the mattress. He was starting to get hot, the heat of Skinner's body and the excitement of being pinned down and dominated were all turning him on. He growled back at Skinner as he felt the other man take both his wrists and hold them in one hand. It wouldn't have taken much effort to free himself, but Doggett wasn't about to do that. He just enjoyed lying face-down, writhing about under his lover, grinding his ass up to feel the hard-on that was burning into his crack. 

"Don't..." he muttered, not meaning anything of the sort. 

Skinner lifted up his body to pull Doggett's shorts further down, grinning at the sight of the exposed cheeks. "This is so sweet," he sighed. He lifted his free hand and gently stroked the rounded flesh. Then lifting his arm, he brought it down on Doggett's ass with a hefty smack. 

Doggett howled.   
Laughing at the noise, Skinner did it again. Struggling and writhing, Doggett let fly with a stream of obscenities, all of which just encouraged Skinner to smack him harder. 

"You have such a dirty mouth, boy," he muttered, smoothing the red marks with his palm. 

Doggett grunted into the quilt. He wasn't quite sure how this practise had been included in their sex-lives, he also wasn't entirely sure why he allowed it, but he wasn't too proud to admit he found the sting of Skinner's slaps hugely erotic. The bigger man always seemed to know instinctively when enough was enough. He never allowed things to slip further into pain than Doggett was happy to venture. 

"Bastard," he gasped, his ass glowing hot. 

"Oh, yeah...." Skinner stroked the red spot. "Believe it." He kissed the damp neck and reached across Doggett's panting body to the nightstand, letting all his weight bear down. He grinned at the gasp and whistle of breath as it was squeezed out of the man under him. 

"Fuckin' hell..." Doggett panted as Skinner leaned back on his elbow. "You fat bastard." 

Skinner smacked the exposed ass hard.  
"OW!" 

"Mind your manners," he growled. "That's 'Mister' Fat Bastard, to you, boy." 

Doggett choked back a laugh, listening to the snap of the lube bottle. He wiped his face on the bedspread, anticipating the cool slide of fingers. He loved this. Loved giving it up to the big man. Skinner adjusted himself, then wiped his hand down the crack of Doggett's ass, making him shiver. 

"Hold still, boy," he ordered. 

Doggett stilled. He felt the slip of one finger as it pushed silkily into his body. It was all he could do not to push up against it. He groaned softly. 

"Still..." Skinner told him, roughly. 

Breathing deeply, Doggett nodded, his face buried in the bed. He couldn't stand it if Skinner decided to stop now. Occasionally his lover would get up and leave him rock hard and panting, just to teach him a lesson in who was the boss. But this was his birthday fuck, and there was no way in hell he was going to miss out on it. 

Another finger penetrated him, stretching and probing. He groaned loudly, straining to hold himself perfectly, still. 

"Good boy," Skinner purred, leaning down to kiss the back of Doggett's neck. 

He bit down hard at the same instant he stretched Doggett wide. Doggett yowled, the sound muffled slightly by the sheets. Skinner's dick engorged at the sound and the feel of his lover's body tightening around his fingers. Neither of them were going to last long at this rate. 

Sliding his fingers out, Skinner raised his hips and grabbed his cock. He was already leaking pretty badly. He knelt up slightly and got himself in place. 

"You're gonna take me now, boy," he whispered, gripping Doggett's hands tightly. He grabbed hold of a hip bone and braced himself. 

"Do it, fucker!" Doggett snarled, pushing his hips up. 

With a savage growl, Skinner slammed his hips forward, impaling Doggett's body on his cock. 

The yell Doggett gave out was shattering, a mixture of raw lust, need and sharp pain that muted into a dull throb of pleasure. He took a shuddering gasp and writhed desperately. 

"Fuck me! Do it NOW, you bastard!" he screamed, thrashing his hips about. Taking him at his word, Skinner let go of the hands he held and grabbed both of Doggett's hips. He yanked the lighter man up, raising his ass into his groin. 

"Take me!" he yelled back, getting to his knees and thrusting hard. He pulled out and slammed back in again, no finesse, no subtlety, just hard, raw sex. 

Doggett shouted each time he felt Skinner slam into him hard enough to rattle his brains. He gripped hold of the bedsheets for purchase and pushed back as hard as he could. He arched his back, feeling the press of Skinner's sweaty belly on his skin. 

"Harder, you prick!" he taunted. "I can't FEEL YOU!" 

With a roar, Doggett felt Skinner's hand leave his hip, grab his hair and ram into him so hard he felt his knees leave the bed. The other man was holding on so tight Doggett knew his fingers were leaving marks in his skin, never mind how hard he was going find sitting down the next day. The thought made his dick throb painfully. 

Each time Skinner entered him, he felt the graze over his prostate, a friction that was fast pulling him into helpless orgasm. He struggled, arching hard, his slick hair slipping out of Skinner's grasp. The hand came down to his shoulder, holding him in a grip of steel. Doggett could feel his release building as his legs trembled, threatening to dump him on the bed. He bent his head up. 

"Touch me!" he groaned, his arms shaking too much to do it himself. "For fuck's sake! TOUCH ME!" 

Grunting with the effort, Skinner slid his hand under Doggett's belly and grabbed his dick in almost as strong a grip as he'd held his hair. Doggett yelled out, thrusting and arching into the fist, the dual stimulation driving him over the edge. He howled, shooting hard, thrashing, feeling like he was impaled right up to his chest with Skinner's cock. Seconds later, Skinner followed him, shouting a stream of obscenities as he spasmed into the hot body under him. 

Slowly collapsing, Doggett groaned, landing in a very wet patch on the sheets. His heart pounded madly, pushing his blood around his body in a panic. His ass beat in time with his heart, twitching and throbbing from the abuse. 

"Oh, fuckin' hell..." he moaned softly. On top of him, Skinner grunted. Hot breath was heaving across Doggett's neck in gulps. "Jesus..." One hand came up to slowly rub his eyes. He groaned, the weight on his back making him unable to take a deep enough breath to satisfy his lungs. "Hey, lardass..." 

A lazy finger jabbed him in the ribs. "Fuck off." Skinner muttered. 

"You're killin' me, here." He struggled to pull himself out from under the heavy body. Skinner rolled off, his softening cock sliding from Doggett's body. He lay on his back, one arm covering his face. Doggett stretched out, groaning as he straightened his legs. He let his eyes droop shut, exhausted. The finger poked him again. 

"What?" he sighed, on the verge of sleep. 

"Hey." 

"What?" 

"Happy birthday, you skinny-assed sack of shit." 

Chuckling, Doggett turned his head to Skinner and blew him a kiss. "Thanks, fat ass." 

chapter four 

Relaxing his bladder, Doggett watched a steady stream emerge and sighed. Thank god. He'd been very close to pissing in his pants. He looked up and stared through the dense forest trees to the road. There really wasn't anyone else around. And they really were going to fuck in the trees. He grinned. It was one of Skinner's fantasies, he knew. He couldn't say it'd ever been high on his list of kinky things to do, but he was more than willing to give it a go for Walt's sake. 

As urine spattered on the forest floor and trickled away between his feet, he cocked his head at a low rumble. Was that a truck? He glanced up and squinted through the trees at the road. It was coming fast, whatever it was. He grunted and internally pushed his bladder, hoping to finish before giving some hairy-assed trucker an eyeful. The noise grew louder.   
Doggett bounced his knees, trying to hurry up. He seemed to be pissing forever. He looked up. Through the trees he could see it. Flashes of yellow and black as a school bus thundered down the hill. 

What the fuck... Doggett frowned. The driver must be out of his mind, taking the incline at that speed. As he watched the approaching bus, in a mad game of 'now you see me, now you don't' through the trees, his eyes widened. It was going much too fast. It was never going to make that last turn... He turned his head slightly, looking at the rental car parked in the sunshine. Skinner was leaning inside the trunk, fishing out condoms and lube. He appeared to be unaware of the approaching bus. Doggett's mouth opened to yell as the yellow monster rocketed into his peripheral vision, practically flying across the blacktop, heading straight for the turn-off. He jerked his head slightly to look, words jammed in his throat. 

It happened in silent slow-motion, an outtake from a sick John Woo film. The bus roared into the sunlit clearing without pause. The glitter of the windshield and flare of yellow paint work all seemed to flow like hot syrup into the back of their car, the two vehicles crumpling together in an orgy of twisted metal and glass. The bus appeared to mount the car in a moment of almost animalistic passion, and then the two galvanized lovers disappeared into the trees as Doggett stood with his mouth hanging open, pissing all over his new running shoes. 

Sound didn't register until long seconds later when several trees cracked and shattered under the impetus of the moving bus, and then it all rushed in, falling over itself to assault Doggett's ears. Breaking glass, screaming metal and bursting tires flowed into both ears, crashing together in the middle of his head. 

"WALT!!" He screamed, unaware he was gripping his dick with vice-like fingers, unaware the last drops were soaking into his laces. "WALT!" His voice was lost in amongst the sounds of tortured metal pouring out of the forest. "Oh jesusgod...oh jesus..." Doggett chanted, his eyes fixed at the point where the bus had disappeared between the trees. "Ohgod...ohgod...ohgod..." Without stopping to think about shaking off, he stuffed himself back in his pants and zipped up as he scrambled up the small incline to the rest stop, the last thing he'd eaten threatening to jump back up his throat and choke him. 

"Walt..." he muttered, slipping and clawing his way up, frantic feet losing purchase on the pine-needled floor. "Walt... Oh shit, Walt..." 

His mind refused to link the last glimpse of Skinner with the image he had of the bus fucking the rear-end of the car. He couldn't think about that. Not now. Not yet. Not ever. He burst into the sunshine and whipped his head from left to right, frantically looking for the flash of white tee-shirt that would let him know everything was going to be okay. No, no, no... this was too much. Way too much. He couldn't lose him now. Not after everything they'd been through. Not now he knew what it felt like to really, truly love someone. He whimpered in the back of his throat, panic scrabbling to take a hold of him. His legs trembled. 

"John?" 

Doggett's head snapped around at the sound of the voice. Skinner was picking himself up off the ground, getting to his feet via shaky knees. 

"Jesus Christ, John..." 

Something very close to a sob wedged in Doggett's throat. He was safe. Walt was safe. The words crashed around in his head, trying to get a toehold on his brain. The sound turned to a strangled cry as he lurched across the turn-off and into Skinner's arms. 

"Oh, God... You're safe." He held on to the other man as hard as he could. His shoulders creaked at the intensity of the grip, screwing up wads of teeshirt in each fist. "Christ..." 

Skinner returned the embrace, trembling and breathless. "I'm okay... Are you okay?" He pushed Doggett away with difficulty and inspected him from top to toe. "You okay?" 

"I'm good..." Doggett took a shaky breath. "I thought..." He looked away. 

"I know." Skinner held him again, hard and quickly. "I'm fine." He pulled an arm free and looked down. Clutched tightly were two sachets of lube. Skinner gave a shaky laugh. "I saved the supplies..." He shook his head. "Jesus, a bus..." 

They stepped back from each other and looked towards the forest. Shit, a school bus. The thought ran between them and galvanized, they started to move towards the spot where the two vehicles had disappeared. They began to jog, then ran, full-tilt to the edge of the crash-site to peer down the side of the mountain. 

"You see anything?" 

"There." Skinner tried to point, looked in annoyance at what he had in his hand and shook his head, dropping the items on the ground. "Down there, to the right." 

Doggett stepped nearer the edge. "I see it." 

Skinner nodded and began moving. "Let's go. There might be..." 

He didn't finish the sentence and Doggett followed after him, not needing to hear the word 'survivors' to get him scrambling down the slope. 

Plunging headlong into the trees, Doggett dodged branches that seemed to reach for him, snagging every scrap of clothes, intent on delaying him. Tree-roots threatened to trip him. It was a nightmare descent, sunlight swallowed up by the foliage, all the heat from the spring day bleeding away into the gloom. 

"There!" Skinner pointed over at the rear-end of the bus, tilting at a crazy angle, as if halfway through a dive into a pool. "Check that side." 

Doggett skidded and slid down one side of the precarious vehicle, using one hand in the branches and mud churned up by the bus to slow his decent. The bus was nose-deep in pine needles and mud, its rear tires still helplessly spinning in dying circles. The smell of hot engine oil and rubber drowned out the familiar scent of the forest, the rancid odor of some dying metal monster. They picked their way over to it, sliding on the pine needle-coated ground, scrambling and slipping between the trees. 

"I got the door!" Doggett yelled. He reached up and grabbed the bottom edge of the doorway. The force of the crash had wedged the folding door half-way open and by means of several vicious kicks to the edge, he was able to force it all the way open. He pulled himself up and plunged into the interior of the bus. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, his ears took in the noises, gathering information. He could hear whimpers and soft crying from deep inside the interior, along with the death rattle of the engine and the ticking drip of what he sincerely hoped wasn't gas. It sure smelled like it. 

"Hey..." he called, pulling himself further in. "Who've we got in here?" There was a moment's silence and then several small voices raised at once. 

"Here!" 

"Hey!" 

"Help us?" 

Nodding to himself, Doggett climbed into a bewildering tangle of tipped up vehicle. There were school bags scattered over the floor with mangled seats and bent metal frustrating his efforts to make visual sense of his surroundings. Behind him, he heard Skinner reach the doorway but he didn't stop to look. 

"I'm coming... Hang on." He grabbed something dark that slipped and moved under his hand. Crying out, he grabbed a steel rail, looking at what he'd been about to grab hold of. The driver of the bus was slumped in his seat, with what was left of his head hanging at right angles to his shoulders. It looked very much like a 'no seatbelt' situation. Headfirst into the windshield and bursting onto the tree that stopped the bus. 

"Jeez..." Doggett muttered.  
The body slipped a little further into the recess of the chair. 

"What is it?" Behind him, Skinner appeared in the doorway. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah." Skinner looked at him but Doggett just shook his head. "Not even gonna try and find a pulse," he muttered, pulling a face. 

"Yeah." 

"Hey, mister... You gonna save us?" A small voice called out from the rear of the bus. 

Doggett turned from the mess in the front "I sure am," he called and began to make his way towards the children. "Where are you?" 

"Over here." 

He could just make out a hand waving above a seatback. "I'm comin'... hang on." 

He grimaced, snagging his hand on a piece of snapped metal. A ragged line across the skin began to well with blood. The inside of the bus was a nightmare; it looked as if it had been picked up and shaken hard, bits broken off, twisted and broken. How many of the young passengers had fallen victim to this godawful mess? Doggett shook his head briefly and didn't allow himself to dwell on the driver, the cause or the blame. That was for others to apportion. He had to focus on getting the kids out. 

"How many?" Skinner asked, close behind him. 

"Unknown." Doggett picked his way along, using the edges of the seats to guide himself. His training slipped into place. Gain control of the scene, find the victims and evacuate them as quickly as possible. 

"Hey, guys; you wanna shout up and let me know how many we got in here?" He grimaced as a disjointed wail of small voices pierced the dark. "Okay...okay. Now how 'bout you shout out your names, one at a time, huh?" 

One by one, the names came, all from the furthest part of the bus, all as if on the verge of tears. 

"Nathan." 

"Laurie." 

"Pete." 

"I'm Emily." 

"My name's Jason... and I think Ethan's dead." 

Doggett winced. "Hang on, guys, we're coming." A flash of color at his feet had him glancing down, instantly wishing he hadn't. A bundle was wedged under a seat that had been bent over at a crazy angle, crushing whatever it was almost in half. Taking a deep breath and swallowing his fear, Doggett bent to quickly to feel in the folds of the clothes. Digging around, his hand came up empty. Just a sweater wrapped around a lunchbox. He muttered a barely audible prayer of thanks and began to move quicker. Speaking loudly, more for his own benefit than anyone else's, he addressed the children. 

"Okay guys, my name's John and I got my buddy Walter with me. We're gonna get you all outta here, don't you worry, okay?" 

"Hurry!" 

"Help us!" 

A squirm of movement from the back caused the bus to shudder and slide slightly, a dull thud and crunch as another window burst in under the pressure of a tree branch. The screech of tortured metal jostled with a chorus of panicky screams. Swallowing a burst of his own panic, Doggett picked his way deeper into the bus. 

"Don't move! Okay?! Just stay where you are... We're coming for you!" 

He moved quickly from seat to seat, eyes scouring the shadows for movement until he found the first child. "Hey..." He bent down to get closer. "How y'doin'? Are you hurting any?" 

The child shook his head and held his hand up. "My arm got scraped." 

Doggett smiled. "That's not so bad." He reached down. "Here, take my hand. Let's get outta here." 

The boy placed his dirty hand in Doggett's and grunted slightly as he was pulled from behind the seat into strong arms. He clung tightly around Doggett's neck. "I'm scared," he whispered so no one else could hear. 

"Hey, you know what? Me too," Doggett whispered back. 

"Yeah?" The boy looked up, hopefully. 

"You bet. What's your name, buddy?" 

"Peter James Forster." 

"Well then, Peter James, I'm gonna hand you to my friend here and he's gonna take you off the bus, okay? Then you won't have to be scared any more." Nodding, Peter wiped his hand under his nose, sniffing as Doggett turned and pushed him into Skinner's waiting arms. 

"Hurry..." he said quietly. "This thing doesn't feel too steady." 

At his words the bus moved a touch, wobbling on its embedded front wheels. Doggett didn't want to think that it was just the rental car that was preventing this thing from plunging all the way down into the ravine. 

Skinner nodded, hitching the boy onto one hip. "Another one. I can manage another." 

Doggett turned back as a curly head popped up on his right, a hand held up as if waiting to be called on in class. 

"Can I go now?" 

"You sure can, honey." Doggett bent down and held his hands out to the girl. She crawled along the seat and took his hand, a dirty doll clutched in the other. "That's a good girl," he told her, lifting her around the waist for Skinner to take. "You hold tight to Walt and you'll be out before you know it." 

Skinner lifted the girl onto his other hip then turned back as Doggett snagged his sleeve. 

"Don't let them see..." He inclined his head towards the driver's remains. "And hurry, okay?" 

Skinner nodded briefly and began to pick his way towards the door, draped in children. Any other time and place the sight of his lover being clung to by what looked like two baby monkeys would have made Doggett smile. Right now he was more concerned with getting the rest of the kids out. 

"Okay, guys, who's left?" 

"Me." 

"And me." 

"Me too." 

Doggett frowned into the gloom. He couldn't see where the voices were coming from. 

"I got an idea - why don't you all put your hands up in the air so I can see where you're at?" It worked. Three small arms waved at him. Two to the right, one at the back. 

He grinned. "That's great, guys. I can see you now." 

Kicking several lunchboxes out of the way, he pulled himself up the incline towards the back of the bus. A sliver of sharp metal seemed to jump out and claw itself over the earlier scratch. He muttered an oath under his breath, sucking the back of his hand, wincing at the taste of blood. This thing wasn't going to give its victims up easily, he thought with uncharacteristic fancy. 

chapter five 

"Mister, can I go next?" 

Doggett glanced at the child perched on the edge of the seat. There was a line of blood running down his face from his hairline to jaw. Doggett wondered if he was badly hurt. The kid didn't seem to be aware of it. Too shocked, he supposed. 

"What's your name, pal?" 

"N...Nathan," the boy stuttered. "I want to go with Pete and Laurie." 

"Sure thing, Nathan. You just hang on two minutes 'til my friend comes back and you can go next." 

Doggett reached out to smooth his thumb over the source of the blood on the boy, revealing a shallow cut that was on its way to clotting. He smiled. Non-life threatening. "You seem like a pretty big guy." 

"I'm, eight," Nathan told him proudly. 

"Wow... Eight. That's real big. How 'bout when you get outside, you look after the others, huh? Make sure they don't wander off anyplace." He tilted the boy's chin up. "Think you can do that for me, Nathan?" 

"Uh huh." The chin nodded enthusiastically. 

Doggett grinned down at him. "Good job, son." The words slipped out before he realized what he'd said, bringing with them a stab of pain he thought he'd outgrown. Something he used to say all too easily a hundred years and another lifetime ago. The grin faded a little. "Good job," he repeated, ruffling the kid's hair. 

The bus dipped and Doggett's head whipped around as Skinner boarded again. His usually pristine tee shirt was stained with a mixture of mud and perspiration. His face was pale under the light sheen of sweat and was creased with worry lines. 

"Hurry!" he said, out of breath. "I left them 50 yards or so away..." He glanced through the window. "Told them to stay, but I don't know how long they'll keep to it." 

The bus shuddered again and he grunted anxiously, grabbing a rail. It felt like the vehicle was trembling. Either that or swallowing. Doggett ran his hand through his hair. He was going crazy, thinking shit like that. It didn't help their situation any, him getting the wind up his dress like some twittery old woman. A noise from the front of the bus told him Skinner was back. A noise behind himn told him SKinner He held his hand out to Nathan. 

"Hey, Walt, this young man is eight. He told me he'd keep an eye on the younger kids for us. Say hi to Walter, Nathan. He's gonna take you to your friends." 

Nathan slipped out from behind his seat shyly. He hesitated a second before putting his hand into Skinner's huge palm. "Hi." 

"Hello Nathan." Skinner nodded and looked at Doggett with urgency. "Come on, John; pass me another one. We need to get them out of here." 

"Y'don't say." Doggett wobbled and grabbed a rail as the bus groaned and slipped a fraction, making all the remaining children scream. "I'm right with ya on that." He raised his voice. "Okay guys... we've gotta go pretty quick now. Hands up where I can see you." 

Two hands lifted and Doggett quickly moved along to the nearest one. He pulled hard against a twisted seatback and crouched down. 

"Hey... you okay in there?" 

"I guess." Two large eyes peered out from the shadows. "But I think Ethan's dead, Mister." 

Doggett took a deep breath. This was what he'd feared. He could handle it, he told himself. Just breath deeply and hold it together. He made himself swallow the lump in his throat. 

"What's your name, pal?" 

The eyes blinked a couple of times. "Jason." 

"Well, Jason, can you show me where your friend is?" 

"Down there." The child pointed. "Under the chair. He's not gonna wake up, is he?" Jason frowned. "My dog got hit by a car last Fall. He wouldn't wake up, either." 

Putting a hand down to steady himself, Doggett leaned over and peered underneath the seat. He could just make out the outline of a small body, seemingly wedged by the back of the seat frame which had buckled. He reached in and touched cloth. He reached further. 

"How is he?" Skinner asked quietly. 

"I... dunno." Doggett twisted his body and reached deeper, trying to feel along the small arm. "Can't..." 

"He's dead. I told you he was dead." 

"I don't know that yet," Doggett ground out through clenched teeth. He wanted to tell the kid to shut the hell up. Even more than that, he wanted to get up from down on the dirty floor and swap places with Skinner so it was other man lying down, feeling for dead boy. He wanted that very badly. 

"If he's dead, can I have his candy?" 

Doggett closed his eyes briefly, wondering if that was a normal thing to ask while suffering from shock, or if this was just one weird kid. 

"Jason..." he muttered. "You wanna hush up, there?" 

The kid hung over the seat and regarded Doggett upside down, inches from his sweating face. "You know, when something dies, it goes all stiff. Maybe that's why you can't get him out." Doggett opened his mouth to say something sharp, holding back at the last second when he saw Skinner place his hand on the back of Jason's sweater to pull him up. 

"Give John room to work," the AD said in a gentler version of his usual command voice. "Come stand here by me." 

"But I wanna watch!" 

Skinner lowered his eyebrows. "Here. Now." 

The boy climbed down from the seat quiet as a mouse and stood silently behind Skinner's legs. Obviously Jason might be weird, but he wasn't dumb. 

Doggett grunted, leaned further in and snagged what felt like an arm in a long shirt. "I can feel him." He walked his fingers up the arm to a patch of skin. His eyes sprang open in surprise. "He's warm!" Gently working his fingers around the wrist, he pressed the skin for a few seconds. A smile spread over his face. "Damn! He's alive!" 

"So not dead, then?" said Jason, sounding a little disappointed. 

"No, pal... Definitely not dead." He wasn't sure how badly injured the kid was, but he'd be damned if he was going to leave him in the bus a minute longer than need be. "Just hang on..." 

He let go of the child, and sitting back up, wedged his foot on the edge of the seat. He turned around and waved at Skinner. "Walt, put your foot against this thing and help me move it." 

The two of them shoved and heaved, moving the seat in tiny increments until Doggett yelled to stop, the sweat pouring down the back of his neck into his tee shirt. He swiped his arm across his forehead, the sweat stinging the cut on his hand. He wiped it on his jeans. 

"I think I can reach him now." Lying down onto his belly he stuck his arm under the seat, grabbing the kid's sweater. He sent up a quick prayer that he wasn't going to do more harm than good by moving the boy like a sack of potatoes across the floor. "Okaaaaaay. Let's get you outta here, Ethan," he said softly and pulled. 

Ethan came sliding along the dirty bus floor towards him more easily than Doggett had thought possible. "Yeah! I got him! Here..." He pulled the boy into the aisle and rolled onto his back. "Take him from me." Skinner bent and scooped the child up in one quick movement and Doggett watched the bigger man check for vitals. He found he was holding his breath without realizing. 

"Is he really not dead?" Nathan peered around Skinner's legs. 

After an agonizing minute, Skinner looked up. "He's really not dead. I promise." He grinned down at Doggett. "He seems okay, I think. Pupils appear equal, pulse and breathing steady." 

Doggett laughed harshly. "You sound like someone I know." He waved a hand, "Go on. Get 'em outta here." 

"Do I have to go too?" Jason peered up curiously to look at the boy cradled in Skinner's arms. 

"Yeah..." Doggett waved his hand. "You too. Hold Nathan's hand." 

Jason pulled a face and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I don't need to hold no one's hand." 

"Anyone's hand," Doggett corrected , shaking his head at himself. He was turning into his sister. He watched as the boy began to scramble down the bus, resolutely not holding onto anyone. "Be careful..." Doggett called after him. "Walk in front of Walter... and don't touch anything!" He shook his head. Now he sounded like his mother. 

chapter six 

He laid his head back on the floor, heedless of the dirt. The adrenaline was wearing off. He could feel the first creeping touches of fatigue. Tempting fate a fraction, he closed his eyes for a moment. The bus lurched and jolted, hard enough to make him startle and grab the rails on either side. 

"Shit..." he muttered, lifting his head. "Time to get outta here." 

"You're not gonna leave me, are you?" 

The voice made him jump. He'd forgotten there was one more child. "No, honey. I'm not." He pulled himself to his feet and looked around. "Where are you, sweetheart?" A hand waved from the very back of the bus. "Here." 

Doggett grinned. That had always been his favorite place on the school bus, too. "I see ya. I'm comin'." 

He pulled himself up the last bit of the slope to the little girl. She was sitting very still, her school bag clutched neatly on her lap. Doggett gave her a big, reassuring smile. 

"Okay, little lady. Hey, I like your bag, it's real cool. Whaddya say me and you get the he..." He paused and re-thought his words. "The heck outta here?" He stuck his hand out and waited. 

The girl sat looking at him with huge eyes. "I can't," she whispered. "My foot's stuck." 

Shit, Doggett said inside his head. He kept his thoughts to himself and knelt on the floor. "Show me, honey." 

"There." She pointed to her right lower leg, wedged in the gap between the seat in front and its backrest. 

"Wow... How'd you manage that?" Doggett asked, trying to slide his fingers in the gap. 

"I was kicking the chair." Doggett looked up to see her bottom lip disappear in between her teeth. He smiled to reassure her. 

"Gee, I used to do that, too. Guess everyone does." He poked and prodded, seeing if there was any leverage. 

"You're not going to get mad at me?" 

He smiled again. "No, baby, I'm not gonna get mad. Honest." 

Her foot was stuck fast with no room to turn it as far as he could make out. He wondered if she was in any pain. "Does it hurt?" 

Her head shook, making the sides of her bobbed hair whip from side to side. There was a daisy flower barrette holding bangs off her face that matched the pattern on her dress. A smudge of something ran across the bridge of her nose to her cheek. "That's good," he said. He took hold of her leg with both hands and pulled experimentally. 

"But that does," she told him in a very small voice. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey." He let go. "What's your name again? I forgot." He grinned and winked. "Old people forget a lot." 

The girl smiled. "It's Emily. E...M...I...L...Y." She spelled it out with pride. 

"Gee, that's a real pretty name." 

Nodding and distracted by the logistics of getting her out without breaking her leg, he nibbled at his fingernail. "Emily... I like that." 

There might be enough room to twist her foot around if he could force the seat a touch to the left. Perhaps. If there was enough room to get purchase on the frame. He glanced back down the bus, willing Skinner to hurry back and give him a hand. He was taking forever with those kids. 

"You mustn't do that." 

"Huh?" He looked up at her. 

"Chew your nails. Daddy says it makes your ears stick out." 

A bark of laughter exploded from Doggett's mouth. He looked at her solemn face and threw his head back in delight, his amusement rendering him momentarily speechless. "Oh, Emily..." His breath came in funny little jags as he wiped the back of his uninjured hand over his eyes. "If only my Daddy had told me that years ago!" He put both hands behind his ears and flapped them forward. 

Emily put her hand to her mouth and giggled. "Wow... You must have chewed them a real lot," she said with wide eyes. 

Doggett's shoulders shook in helpless mirth. "I sure did, hon. I sure did." 

How could there be such a moment of fun in a situation like this, he wondered? 

"Maybe you'd better not do it any more," she advised, totally serious. 

"I won't." He grinned. "I promise." 

Turning his back to her, he braced himself against the back bench. "Hang on a second, I'm gonna try to push this nasty old seat out of the way so we can get your foot out." 

"'Kay." 

He pushed hard. The seat creaked. 

"It moved!" 

Doggett redoubled his efforts, a fresh sweat breaking out over his face. "Nearly there..." he gasped, the tendons on his neck standing proud of his skin. "Almost..." The tread was damp on the bottom of his trainers, making his foot slip. The seat moved, then sprang back. "Dammit!" He yelled. 

This was nuts. He needed Skinner's brute force behind him to get this thing to shift. He looked at the girl. She was staring at him with wide eyes, her hands holding onto her school bag so tightly her little knuckles were white. Doggett pulled a face. 

"Aww. I'm sorry, Emily, honey. I'm not mad at you. Just this stinky seat." He kicked it to make his point. 

"Uh huh." She didn't sound the least bit convinced. 

"Really." He sat up and reached out to pat her hand. "It's okay." 

She looked down at her hand. He had left a dirty mark on her skin." Eww." 

Doggett grinned. Little girls. "Sorry 'bout that." He looked down at his filthy hands. "I'd offer to clean it off, but..." 

"That's okay," she said hurriedly, looking at his clothes. "I can do it." She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her hand, all the time watching him out of the corner of her eye. 

"Sorry," he said again. 

He sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Okay. So if he couldn't shift the seat and he couldn't pull her foot out, then what was the answer? Scratching his head and wiping the sweat off the back of his neck, it came to him. Maybe he could move the back of the seat instead. 

"Okay..." Clambering to his feet, he turned to face Emily and took hold of the back rest of the recalcitrant seat. "I'm gonna pull like mad on this thing, and I want you to pull your foot as hard as you can. Think you can do that for me, honey?" 

Moving her bag to one side, she took hold of her leg with both hands she nodded solemnly. "Uh huh." 

"Great. Now then. I'm gonna count to three, then we both pull like crazy." He wiped his damp hands down his shirt and braced himself. "Ready? One... two... three!" 

Together, they heaved in opposite directions. Eyes closed, Doggett pulled with all his strength. Blood roared in his ears, muscles groaned and stood out from his bones. Head back and eyes screwed up tight, he could feel movement, something was definitely giving way... He was starting to tilt backwards. 

"Yes!" With a triumphant cry, he could feel himself standing at a different angle, the pressure on his arms lessening. "Way to go!" he yelled. And then everything tilted too much and his feet began to slip, purchase lost on the slippy floor. 

"Hey!" 

He let go, arms pinwheeling in the air, stumbling backwards, confused and disoriented. He landed on his ass with a mighty thump in the middle of the aisle and as the wind came whistling out of him, he had the presence of mind to grab the edge of a seat. 

It wasn't the seat moving, it was the bus tipping up, shuddering and shaking itself loose, sliding further down the mountain in a triumphant groan of metal over rock and trees. 

"Shit!" 

Doggett clamped his other hand on the opposite seat and hung on. Above him, Emily screamed as she slid forward, her school bag tipping off the seat to hit Doggett in the crotch. He groaned, not daring to let go long enough to move it. He watched the little girl fall forward to hang bent at the waist over the back of the seat in front, her mouth open in what had become a silent scream, her face a picture of abject terror. 

chapter seven 

Two minutes after the slide began, it halted. Just as suddenly and almost as frighteningly. The steady plink, plink of rocks and stones sliding by echoed in the abrupt silence. Hardly daring to let go of the seats, Doggett glanced around. Still at a ridiculous angle, the bus appeared to be swaying gently, broken glass and bits of the vehicle tinkling past him to throw themselves out of the gaping hole that used to be a front windshield. 

"Jesus..." he whispered, frightened out of his wits. He craned his neck around to look back down the bus, instantly regretting it. Even in the half light, he could plainly see the sparkling bits of glass as they tumbled through the air, nothing but dust motes to hinder their fall to oblivion through the trees. "Oh fuck..." he breathed and shut his eyes. 

The bus seemed to be resting, just deciding when to throw itself down the last two hundred yards of steep slope into the creek at the bottom. Doggett's throat dried. It put him in mind of the scene in the dinosaur movie when the RV was hanging off the cliff. The blood rushed to his head, making it throb. A small noise crept out from above him. Doggett opened his eyes to look straight into Emily's terrified face. 

"Hey..." he said quietly, as if making too much noise might dislodge the wavering nightmare. "Hey... Emily? Speak to me, honey." He watched her swallow a couple of times before taking a deep breath. 

"Are we going to fall?" she asked in a small voice, as if agreeing with his crazy thoughts about loud noises and balance. 

"I don't know." Doggett replied, very carefully pulling himself up into a sitting position, pushing her bag off his groin. He held his breath while he sorted out his legs, moving to kneel up. His right hand remained welded to the seat with rigid knuckles. "I hope not." 

"Me too." 

"How're you doin'?" he asked her. She didn't seem to be in any pain. 

"Okay." She pulled a face. "My head hurts." She poked a finger to her forehead. "I bumped it." 

"Looks okay, honey. How's your foot?" 

She looked down, surprise all over her face. "It came out!" 

"Hey! That's great!" A fighting chance at last. Thank you Lord. He kneeled up. "That means we can climb out of here, now. Get out of this nasty old monster." 

Snapping his mouth shut, he could have kicked himself for the careless words. He quickly smiled at her, wondering if he could manage it well enough, hoping his own fears wouldn't show on his face and scare her. 

"Nasty old monster," she echoed. Doggett was about to apologize for scaring her, when she nodded and looked at him again. "It is nasty." 

"Sure is," he agreed. 

"It hurt my friends. It hurt me." She poked her head again then looked up. "Are you okay, mister?" she asked. 

Doggett was touched. He did a quick mental check on all parts. His hand stung, he ached all over, but he was pretty good, considering. He winced as he flexed his thighs. His butt throbbed where he'd fallen on it. "I bumped my..." He calculated her age. "My rear-end." 

Almost a smile. "You fell down on it." 

"Yeah, I sure did." 

Outside, a voice made its way through the broken windows. "DOGGETT!!" Skinner shouted, his voice still distant. He sounded frantic. Doggett took a breath to reply. 

"In here! We're okay!" he yelled back. He smiled at Emily, who had jumped at the volume. "It's okay," he told her. "My friend's gonna help us." Quite how, he wasn't entirely sure, but hearing himself say it made him feel better, too. 

"Is he your best friend?" she asked. 

Doggett nodded. "He sure is." He turned his head. "In here!" he yelled, getting to his feet with infinite care. Even breathing hard seemed to make the damned thing rock. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah... we're gonna try and climb out." 

Out of sight, Skinner's voice panicked. "Jesus! Be careful, it's just hang..." 

Doggett held up a hand he knew Skinner couldn't see. "Please don't tell me. I don't wanna know!" 

The timbre of fright in Skinner's voice was enough to dissolve the little strength he had left. He'd better get going before he locked up completely. 

"I can't get any closer to the door," Skinner shouted. "It's gone over the edge and I don't want to..." He paused. 

"I know." 

Doggett pulled himself towards Emily. There was no way they were going to get out through the door. He looked at a broken side window. It was completely smashed, just the rubber edging left. They could maybe climb out of it without ripping themselves to pieces on safety glass. "Hey, Emily..." He held out his hand. "Slide over to me, will you? I think it's time we got outta here." 

Obediently slithering along the shiny seat, Emily reached out for him the moment the bus decided to give a little shimmy, just to let them know it hadn't forgotten them. She screamed and grabbed the seat in front, her little girl's voice as sharp as the broken glass under Doggett's feet. He couldn't swear he hadn't yelled out, too. 

"It's okay... It's okay... It's okay," he chanted, as soon as the rocking steadied a little. Stretching as far as his right arm would allow, what with it still clamped to the seat, he jiggled his fingers at her. "It's okay... Take my hand. Just reach a little bit more, baby. You can do it." 

Her bobbed hair shook quickly. "I can't!" 

"Yes, you can. Just let go with one hand, there's a good girl." He made himself stretch another half inch towards her. 

"I'm scared," she told him, her bottom lip wobbling. 

"I know. I'm scared, too." She looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded. "I am... Real scared, honey..." He wasn't lying. It wasn't anything but the truth, but he wondered if she believed him. He was a grown-up, after all. And grown men weren't allowed to say they were just as scared as a little girl. She looked suddenly thoughtful. 

"Your name is John, right?" she asked, out of the blue. 

"Uh huh. That's right." He wiggled his outstretched fingers. "Take my hand, honey." 

She pursed her lips. "Is that J...O...N?" 

"Uh uh. J...O...H...N." Doggett wondered what he was doing, participating in the world's most inappropriately-timed spelling-bee. 

Emily shook her head at herself, obviously annoyed that she'd gotten it wrong. "What's your other name?" "Emily... We really do have to get out of here." 

She ignored him calmly. "My other name is Rose. R...O...S...E." She tilted her head on one side like a curious bird. "Do you have another name?" 

Doggett screamed inside. He was standing on the edge of a fucking long way down, having a tea party conversation with a girl who probably weighed less than his old Marine backpack. He should just grab her and run. 

"Yes, I have another one," he found himself saying. "Now, can we go?" 

"What is it?" 

She was relentless. An infuriating, miniature woman. Was it a requirement of the entire damned gender to be so fucking irritating? Or was it just him that brought out the worst in the fairer sex? Opening his mouth to yell at her, he marveled that she could be so absolutely oblivious to the enormity of the situation. He closed his mouth. Maybe she just finding a way to deal with it in her own way. He sighed, defeated. 

"It's Jay," he told her, his arm dropping to his side. 

"Just the letter?" 

"No." He rubbed his eyes. "The whole thing is Jay. Like the bird." 

"Oh." The skin between her eyes creased up as she thought about that. 

Putting his hand up again, he nodded. "Now, can we please go?" 

Ignoring him, she looked down at her feet for so long that Doggett wondered if she was starting to cry. This was insane. He was going to have to grab her. He reached out, calculating that if he timed it right, he could let go of the rail, snatch her up and take hold of something before he slipped down the bus. As he counted down three, two, one in his head, Emily's chin came up and she nodded at him. "Jay," she said. "J...A...Y. Right?" 

Doggett let out the breath he was holding. "Yeah, that's right. J...A...Y." 

Smiling, she held her hand out, placing it firmly Doggett's. "We should go, now," she told him. 

chapter eight 

Staring at her, he gave his head a rueful little shake. "Yeah," he said. "Time to go." There didn't seem to be anything else to say, so he just pulled her along the rest of the seat and up into his arms. He didn't know if her ankle was sore, or even if she could walk on it, but he figured that if she felt the sudden urge to spell out the entire English language, then carrying her was by far the wisest thing. 

"Let's go, Mo," he said, grinning down at her. 

She giggled. "Silly." 

Adjusting his grip on the rail, Doggett winked. "That's it, baby. You got me pegged. Hang on tight," he told her, squeezing with his left arm. She wrapped her legs around his middle and took two tight handfuls of shirt. She glanced down. 

"I like this," she said, plucking at the transfer on the front. "Piglet's my favorite. Is he yours?" 

"Uh..." Doggett glanced down. "I guess." Now wasn't the time for long explanations. "My sister gave it to me." Tucking her feet well into his sides, he nodded. "Okay. Time to go." 

Taking it very slowly, he began to edge his way to the side of the bus. He peered out of the broken window. The drop down to the forest floor looked around 6 feet. Not too bad. He reckoned he could do that with her in his arms. Roll and tuck. 

"Oh!" She quickly twisted around in his arms and peered over his shoulder. "I need my Barbie bag!" 

The sudden movement woke the bus, sending another sickening shudder through the framework as it lurched on whatever it was using as a fulcrum. It hadn't forgotten them at all. It had just been resting before it swallowed them down. Doggett grabbed the edge of the window with both hands, feeling small legs grip his waist and wincing as two hands scratched his shoulders scrabbling for better purchase. 

The bus was teasing, mocking them with its insane tipping back and forwards. What was it to be... Die?... Not die.... Die?... Doggett's nerves jangled, fright battling with a slight nausea brought on my the swaying. 

"Christ on a crutch..." he muttered, forgetting himself. 

Emily pulled her self tighter, still looking behind them. "Oh, no my bag!" she said sadly. 

Doggett glanced back. "Don't worry 'bout that," he said as it slid away down the aisle. "Someone will come back for it later." 

"But I only had it a week," she told him, her voice wavering on the verge of tears. "You'll get it back," he lied. There was no way she'd see it again if this bus decided to commit suicide down the ravine. Or maybe they'd see it when they were all lying splattered on the rocks below. He pushed that thought away. 

"JOHN!" Skinner shouted from somewhere over the other side of the bus. "Get out, for God's sake!" Doggett pulled himself to the edge of the seat and leaned out as far as he dared. He mentally told Skinner not to worry, he was getting out, not wanting to shout out and frighten the child any more than she already was. 

"Okay..." he said to himself, lifting one foot up to balance on the rubber edging strip. "Time to go." The top of his foot was wet. He idly wondered how that had happened. It hadn't rained for a while. Six feet down looked a hell of a lot further when you were leaning out of a window. He gazed down and wondered if it might be better to try and hang from his fingertips then drop. 

"It was a gift," Emily sniffled sadly, looking back down the bus. 

"Huh?" 

She sighed and rested her chin on his shoulder. "For my birthday. I was six on Saturday." 

Doggett pulled his head sideways to look at her. "Yeah? No kiddin'! It was my birthday last Saturday, too. How 'bout that?" 

The coincidence took her mind off her bag. "Really?" She narrowed her eyes. "You're not just saying that?" 

Doggett laughed. "No... Honestly. It was my birthday, too." His eyebrows raised wryly. "I got this shirt." 

"Oh..." She looked at the picture on the front and then back up at his face. "How old are you?" 

He hunched to adjust her weight and grunted. "Let's just say my sixth birthday was a very long time ago. Now then, ma'am. Hang on tight, we're going to take a little trip." 

He heaved their combined weight onto the lip of the window, wobbling slightly, holding his breath in case the movement woke the beast again. 

"Oops-a-daisy," Emily whispered as he swayed drunkenly on the edge. 

"JOHN... GET OUT!!" Skinner's voice startled him, making him waver precariously. He opened his mouth to shout back, but a groaning noise from underneath the bus wedged the words in his throat. The sound of scraping machinery over rocks combined with the rising wail of injured metal. The bus screamed out its anger and frustration at their escape attempts, pulling itself from the temporary fulcrum to begin its suicide plunge. Emily shrieked in fear, the bus screamed in anger, lurching sideways, forcing Doggett over the edge of the window in an unprepared, uncoordinated tangle of arms and legs. 

He wondered if his shout of terror had drowned out all the other sounds because as his body flew through the air, he couldn't hear a damned thing. There was enough time to feel the cool crisp air on his face, smell the pine trees and sap, but nowhere near enough time to brace himself for the impact as they hit the forest floor in a bone-crunching thump. Turned out that 6 feet was nowhere near far enough to prepare yourself for the impact, and way too far to jump carrying a child in your arms. But it was just far enough to knock the living shit out of you. 

If he'd had any air at all left inside him, Doggett would have screamed out as he felt something scrunch in his arm, but as it was all he could do was gasp and screw his face up as a shower of pine needles and other forest crap flew at him. He was sure they bounced at least twice before he managed to get his body curled over into a ball around the child clinging to his chest, but with the speed of events, he couldn't swear to it. He felt every stick, every twig and branch as they rolled away from the dying bus, expecting to be sucked into its wake any second. Each lump in the ground, every stone he touched left their mark on his body as punishment for denying the bus its last meal. Doggett began to wonder if this was Mother Nature's way of teaching him a lesson - he could live, but he was going to be hacked and battered into nothing but a wet spot on the ground for the privilege. He curled himself around Emily, a flesh and blood turtle with no protective shell or breath to scream out his pain. 

The torture ended abruptly.  
A half-fallen pine tree took pity on his suffering and stuck a root out at a right angle and caught hold of one leg, snatching them into a lurching halt that jarred the teeth in Doggett's head and every bone in his body. The branch had slithered between his legs, slamming to a stop 6 inches from his balls, crunching the quads at the back of his leg into ground beef. He couldn't even loosen his chest enough to take a breath and howl. He merely lay still, the pain radiating up from his thigh, white, blinding and sharp enough to bring tears to his screwed-up eyes. It hurt far too much to be thankful. It hurt too much for much of anything, so he just lay still and suffered in silence. 

chapter nine 

When the bus began to tip and slide, Skinner's heart leaped in his chest so hard he thought for one horrible moment he was having a heart attack. He grabbed at himself and screamed Doggett's name with what he imagined might be his last breath. Something pulled inside his chest as the bus disappeared, a sharp, sickening wrench that hurt him clean through to his balls. And then stood and watched helplessly as the huge yellow wreck rocked one last time and began a non too graceful swan dive down the side of the ravine. 

"JOHN!!" he screamed again, the unaccustomed feeling of helplessness making him feel sick. The bus slithered out of sight, crashing through saplings and tearing rocks up in all directions. And then there was a moment of exquisite silence, followed by a sickening thump as it hit the floor of the ravine. "John..." The word whispered out of him as he stood rigid in a patch of sunlight, still holding a fistful of his shirt. His eyes and ears were telling him one thing, but his mind refused to listen. He just stood and stared at the gash in the foliage that had been scraped away, leaving behind the dirt like an open wound. 

Taking a few halting steps forward, he raked his eyes over the area. Doggett had to have jumped. He had to... But there was no flash of light blue Piglet shirt or wave of hand. Nothing.  
The word echoed in Skinner's chest. Shock stirred him into action. Maybe Doggett and the child were still in there, still alive and were waiting for him to do something. He ran to the edge of the drop and stared down. There was no way he would be able to climb down there. It was too steep, anyone attempting to follow in the same direction would need climbing gear and ropes. And even if by some miracle he made it down, there was no way he could get anyone back up. 

Indecision was not normally Skinner's nature but the fact that it was Doggett in that bus had his mind screaming along several courses of action, too freaked to settle on anything. He could try to get down there and then just sit with them, injured or dead; or he could run back to the road to try and attract a passing driver. He couldn't call anyone - both cell phones were currently crushed underneath the bus. Common sense dictated he stay where he was, but the terror of losing Doggett shoved rational thought right out of his mind. He threw himself to the ground and swung his legs over the edge of the sheer drop. Maybe he could inch down slowly. He scrambled his legs about, trying to find purchase. A tree root stuck out of the ground near his hand and he gripped it tightly, ready to lower himself down the slope. 

A touch on his hand brought his head up. "Mister?" 

Skinner looked up blankly. "Huh?" 

"Mister? Don't go down there." 

Skinner stared at Nathan as if bewildered as to where he had come from. He felt the small hand slip around his wrist. 

"Don't leave us all alone." 

Skinner stared at the child. The smear of blood that ran the length of the child's face was like a slap in Skinner's. There was another responsibility to consider. He had taken these children out of the bus. They were safe, but they wouldn't stay safe if he hared off down that slope and maybe got himself killed. The reality and unfairness of the situation hit him like a sledgehammer. John was gone. There was nothing he could do about that right now, regardless as to whether his lover was alive or dead and regardless as to how much he hurt inside. He wasn't a man that shirked his responsibilities, and his first responsibility was to these children. 

"I won't," he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "I won't leave you." He turned and looked back down at the mangled bus a final time, before pulling himself back up the slope. The effort of dragging his body those few feet felt as painful pulling a tooth. He lay on his back for a moment, staring up at the patchy blue sky, listening to the air whistling in and out of his constricted chest, wondering if the pain he felt was enough to kill him. When he felt like he could move without either crying or being sick, he turned over and got to his feet. He looked down at Nathan. "Come on." He resolutely strode back to where he'd left the other children, the little boy trotting along behind, trying to keep up. 

They were still sitting where he had left them. Bending down he brushed some loose dirt from Ethan's face. The boy was starting to come round. He flinched at Skinner's touch and moaned. 

"He's waking up." 

Skinner glanced at the little girl. He frowned. "What was your name?" he asked. Staring at his face and shrinking back the girl stuck her thumb in her mouth and remained silent. Skinner could have kicked himself. He was never any good around kids. Not a natural like John. He swallowed. He wasn't going to go there. Not right now. He shoved all thoughts of his lover away. 

"She's Laurie," the biggest of the boys told him. "She's only in kindergarden." 

Skinner nodded and tried to smile. At his feet, Ethan began to move. He cried out as Skinner bent over him. 

"Okay. It's gonna be okay... son," he said, hoping he was using the right words, the right tone. He patted the small shoulder. "You'll be fine." 

"He's probably hurt bad." 

Skinner turned to look at Jason. "I don't think that's very helpful, do you?" 

Jason just shrugged. "Might be. He's making a funny noise. My dog made that..." 

Skinner glared. "That's enough. I don't want to hear anything else about your dog. Clear?" 

Jason pouted. Laurie began to make small whining noises. Skinner rubbed his hand over his eyes. Oh, god. That was all he needed. Crying kids. He sighed. He might not be able to do the whole substitute parent thing, so he'd do what he was best at - what he was trained to do. He stood up and took charge. 

"Right. We're going to quickly climb up that hill to the road. Okay? Then we're going to stop a car and get some help." He looked around at the upturned faces. "Is that clear?" 

He watched the boys nod. Laurie just stared at him with wide, scared eyes. He didn't think he was going to win any babysitting awards from her. 

"Okay..." He pointed at Nathan. "You're the oldest. You get to help Laurie and Jason, okay?" Nathan nodded and took hold of Laurie's hand, pulling her to her feet. 

"Are you gonna leave Ethan here?" Jason didn't sound too concerned at the possibility. "Cos my dad says there are lions and stuff around here." 

Skinner fought the urge to bend down and yell loudly at the child. "No, Jason. I am not leaving him. I'm not leaving anyone." Except John, his subconscious added. 

"What about Emily and your friend?" Jason pointed over his shoulder. "They're still on the bus." 

Skinner took a deep breath. That crippling pain in his chest was starting up again. "Are we gonna leave them down there?" 

Skinner rubbed the middle of his chest. He wondered if this was what angina felt like. "Cos, you know... there are lions and tigers and wolves..." 

The pain arced up to his throat and bubbled out of Skinner in a strangled noise. He turned to the boy and yelled: "NO! There are no lions here! Nor tigers, nor wolves..." 

"But my dad..." 

**"ENOUGH!"**

There was silence as everyone looked at Skinner. Part of him was deeply ashamed at losing his temper with a child, part of him congratulated himself for not losing it completely and slapping the kid. He took steadying breaths trying not to listen to Laurie's wet sniffs. 

"We have to leave now," he said with exaggerated care. "We have to go and find help. For Ethan." He glanced back. "For John and Emily." The children looked at him in silence.  
"Now let's move it out." 

He bent low and gently scooped Ethan up in his arms, taking care not to squeeze or jostle him any more than necessary. "Come on, kid," he said softly as the boy moaned. "It's nearly over, now." Standing, he nodded at the sight of Nathan holding the other's hands and began to walk up the slope towards the road, resolutely not thinking about what was behind them. "Let's go." 

chapter ten. 

Strangely enough, even though entire minutes seemed to have passed, the silence that had rushed into Doggett's ears was still there. The noise of the bus' final landing didn't register at all. Had he been unconscious, he wondered? Lying speared and spread out on the ground, he mentally catalogued his body. Behind tightly screwed-up eyes, he asked himself how bad it was going to be when he chose to move and didn't care much for the answer. His left arm was howling from the elbow down, an hysterical, stamping up and down pain that screamed for his attention. Possibly broken, he thought. Or dislocated at the elbow. Both diagnoses left him feeling slightly nauseous. 

His right leg was more of a worry. He couldn't feel anything from mid-thigh down and he guessed that loss of sensation was not a great thing. Then again, he'd seen the business end of enough open compound fractures in the service to be damned glad it was numb if that was the case. God knows what shit would have worked its way inside an open wound. Mud and pine needles wedged in a ragged end of femur. The thought made his stomach rise.   
He got hold of his imagination and reeled it in, knowing that making himself puke wouldn't improve matters. 

He swallowed, bits of grit and dirt scratching down his throat. It took two more swallows to get his throat clear, and at least half a dozen hard blinks to see properly. And what he saw forced a tiny prayer out of him. They were lying mere feet from the edge of a drop that made the one the bus landed in look like the edge of a kiddies sandbox. Somebody up there loved him. Or maybe loved the little girl. He glanced down at the body wedged under his. She was still lying in his arms with both eyes screwed tightly closed with a furious expression. Any kid with a face fixed like wasn't dead, Doggett reasoned. Hurt, perhaps, but not dead. Unable to move his injured arm, or free the other one from underneath her body, he resorted to blowing gently into her face, waiting for a reaction. 

"Emily?" he whispered, blowing again. "You still with me, honey?" He watched anxiously as her face began to slowly unfurl from its grimace to reveal her dark brown eyes. She blinked a couple of times. "Hey, pretty girl... You okay?"  
Her body hitched violently as she gulped down great lungfuls of air. Doggett waited for her to catch her breath. "Are you hurt anyplace?" he asked.  
He watched her do the same mental inventory he had done. Eventually she nodded, chin wobbling. "Where, baby? Tell me where you hurt." He prayed she wasn't going to tell him her back or neck. He didn't think he could cope with that. 

"My..." She coughed a little, obviously having taken in a mouthful or two of forest too. Doggett felt her wriggle slightly in his arms. "My behind is a little sore," she announced. She pulled an arm out from between them and rubbed the back of her head, mussing her hair. "My head got bumped." Then she scrubbed her palm over a scrape on her forehead. "It hurts here, too." She left a large smear of dirt behind. "I think we banged heads." She said without accusation. 

"I guess we did," Doggett said, clearing his throat again. "My face hurts a bit, too." 

Placing a small finger on his cheekbone, she gently touched a couple of places. "Here?" Doggett nodded. 

"You have a bump already." Doggett snorted softly. A black eye was the least of his problems. 

"Do I have a bump?" she asked, touching her own face. 

Doggett looked carefully. "Uh uh. No, you're just fine." He didn't think she'd want to know about the scrape or the dirt. 

Her barrette fell across her face. "Oh..."She tried to fix it with one hand. 

"Here..." Doggett pulled back and freed his uninjured right arm and clicked the little daisy back into place as best he could. 

She smiled. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." Doggett smiled back at her before telling himself they really ought to make a move to get away from the edge of the cliff. He sighed. "I guess I should try to get up, now." 

Placing his hand on the ground behind her head and pushing himself up slightly he grunted as muscles protested strongly. And then the pain in his leg and arm howled into focus, obliterating all other complaints. The world greyed out a little, his vision going woolly around the edges. "Awwww shhhh....." he began. A small finger came up to his lips. 

"Uh uh. That's a real bad word." 

Doggett closed his eyes and counted to twenty before letting out the breath he'd been holding. It leaked out between his teeth in a hissing exclamation of pain, bleeding the world back into focus. Holy shit, he thought swallowing hard. 

"Are you hurt bad?" 

He didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He felt like puking, half his allotted extremities were so sore he didn't know what to do with them, but he didn't know exactly how bad 'bad' was. 

"I dunno," he said at last. "Maybe." He opened his eyes to find her nose a bare inch from his. It made him jump a little. "What?" 

"Your nose is bleeding." 

"It is?" He put his hand up to feel. Sure enough, two trails of gore were running from his nose into his mouth. He licked his lip, wondered why he hadn't tasted it before. "Oh..." He wiped his fingers over the mess and rubbed them on his shoulder with more regret than he expected, but he reckoned the tee shirt was a goner by now, anyway. 

"Ewww." The world's smallest magician produced a dainty, embroidered handkerchief and began to wipe his top lip. "Gross," she scolded gently. Doggett allowed her to clean him up, resisting the urge to laugh out loud. 

"Better?" he asked as she regarded the cloth between two fingers with distaste. 

"Uh huh." Nodding, she handed him the hankie. "You keep it." 

Doggett took the offering and slid his hand down to put it in his jeans. "Thank you." 

"I guess we should try to find your friend, Walter, now," she said. 

He gave her a quick smile. "That sounds like a good plan." 

Taking a deep breath, he tried pushing himself up again. It hurt like a bitch, but not quite as badly as before. He hoped that meant he had just sprained, pulled or wrenched things, rather than actually snapped himself. He winced more at that thought, than the pain. "Damn..." he muttered, trying to untangle himself from her. He pulled his uninjured leg from on top of hers and planted it back on the ground ready to take his weight. He wanted to see if he could kneel up without screaming. "Can you...?" He jerked his head. "Move out a bit? So I can get up." 

Nodding, she began to pull her legs out from under him. "Oh!" Her face crumpled. She grabbed at her leg. "Owwwwww!" 

"Emily?" 

"My foot! It hurts!" Her teeth bit down hard on her bottom lip. "Owww!" 

Doggett lifted his body up to take his weight off her, wincing. "Is that better?" 

Nodding vigorously, she carefully pulled her leg out and inspected it. "It hurts a lot," she told him, on the verge of tears. 

"Where you got it stuck?" 

"Uh huh. Just there." She pointed to the top of her foot. 

Doggett gingerly pulled back the top of her white ankle sock and they both peered down. The skin was marked with a livid bruise extending out from under her shoe and swollen. Sprained, Doggett thought, touching it. Hopefully nothing more. "Ow." Emily pushed his hand away. 

"Sorry." He sighed. She wasn't going to be walking anywhere on that. The thought of carrying even her slight weight didn't appeal in the least. 

She sniffed loudly and Doggett smiled. "Want the handkerchief back?" 

"No thank you," she told him with a grimace. "I'll be okay." She scooted back a touch and sniffed quietly. 

With the way she was sitting, her dress had ridden up and Doggett averted his eyes quickly, but not before noting she wore matching panties to her dress. He smiled to himself . Was it appropriate to tell her that he was wearing matching shorts to his shirt, too? Maybe he'd get around to it, later. Then again, maybe not. He didn't want anyone taking offense at the harmless observation. He'd just tell Walt. 

The thought of his lover galvanized Doggett. The other man must be frantic. Tilting his head to one side, he listened for any sound of shouting, but all he could hear were the regular forest-type of noises. Looked like they rolled further than he thought. Still, it was time to get out of here. He'd had enough of the great outdoors to last him a lifetime. He looked down at his left arm, peering this way then that, and finding nothing that ought to be inside sticking outside, took heart. He lifted it slightly. Definitely more painful than it had any right to be without being in a million pieces. He screwed up his face and bit back an expletive. If he hadn't shredded every muscle, he'd eat his shirt. 

"Are you okay?" 

Doggett tried to breathe normally and not hyperventilate. He nodded. "You don't look like it." 

A gasping half-laugh sputtered out of him. He bet he didn't. Covered in blood and God knew what, all screwed up in pain on the forest floor. "I'm..." He coughed, then tried again. "I'm just tryin' to see what works okay." 

He gently flexed his arm, getting it about three quarters extended before having to admit defeat. An arm that mostly worked was going to have to do. He looked up at her staring at him. "Okay." He tried out a smile. "I think I'm going to live." 

Using every ounce of willpower and sheer pig-headedness he possessed not to scream, he pulled himself to his knees then rested a moment, gasping and leaning on one hand, sweat running down the sides of his face. His nose had started up again. He could feel it trickling down his nostrils. He shook his head and drops of blood flew out, plopping on the pine needles. He grinned. That would gross Emily out. Wiping a hand under his nose, he gently wiped the gore on his jeans, careful about how far he bent his arm. 

"Sorry," he muttered, glancing up at her. She didn't say anything. Easing himself to a fully upright position, he stretched his back, glad to find that apart from bumps and scrapes, it didn't hurt too badly. The dull ache and all the pops and cracks his spine reminded him of when Terry Alsopp had rolled his old Camero with Doggett and Terry's little brother inside. The car had turned at least three times before coming to a stop on burst tires. God knows how they all managed to climb out of that with nothing worse than a few scrapes and aches. He had walked away from that, surely he could do this. 

"Hey, young lady. If I'm gonna carry you up to the road, then you gotta help me out, okay?" 

Emily nodded. 

"Okay, then." He reached out his good arm. "Come here." Scooting down the slight incline, she wriggled over to him. "Stand up as best you can," he told her. "Then I can grab hold of you." 

Using his clothes to pull herself up, she climbed to stand on one foot, balancing carefully. "It still hurts," she told him solemnly. 

"I know, sweetheart. Just be brave, huh?" He stooped down and looped his arm under her behind. He braced himself as she hopped up against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Ow..." she said softly, clinging tighter. 

"Jeez!" Doggett's breath hissed out. It hurt almost too much to bear and there was a horrible tilting moment when he thought they were going to tip backwards. He closed his eyes and concentrated on holding very still, leaning forward slightly. He held her around her hips with his good arm, the other one nothing more than a token presence on her side. 

"Don't drop me," she whispered into his ear. 

"I won't," he whispered back, hoping he could make true on that. 

Peeling his eyes open, he began to move uphill, resolutely ignoring the pain in his thigh. The muscles felt mushy and weak, like they were going to give way at any second. It reminded him of the fruit he saw on the roadside in Lebanon. Fly-blown and swollen, ready to burst open in a splatter of pulp. But at least swollen and sore was better than bones poking through flesh. Small mercies, he thought. 

He ground his teeth, biting hard against the sickening pain. What he wouldn't give for an ampoule of morphine from his old field-kit right now. It had taken two of those to stop Rudy from screaming when he... Doggett shook his head, silently. He wasn't going to start thinking about Rudy's death. It had taken years to get to the point where he could enjoy his memories of his friend, and a while longer before the nightmares stopped. 

"What's the matter?" Emily peered into his face. 

Doggett just shook his head again. Some things couldn't be explained. Certainly not to a little girl in a daisy-print dress. He could feel her staring at him, but he refused to look at her, concentrating on the ground beneath his feet. It was maybe fifty yards before she spoke again. "Your face is wet." 

His head jerked up. He frowned. "What? Is it blood?" 

She shook her head. "Like water." He blinked self-consciously. Had he been weeping? "It's coming from here." She touched her finger to his hairline. Doggett felt a sagging relief. 

"Oh." He tried to shrug and failed. "It's sweat." 

"Because you're hot?" 

He pursed his lips in a grim smile. "Yeah. Very hot." The unseasonable warmth wastaking it's toll on him, that and the constant pain. 

He hitched her up between lurching steps, trying to get a position that didn't hurt. It was incredibly hard, carrying her with only one arm. He could feel she was trying to use his hips to take some of the weight off him, but that was just making the waistband of his jeans chaff and dig into his hip bones. He stared at the ground, lifting his aching legs in stumbling rhythm. He didn't think he could do this much longer. He was going to have to ask her to get down. 

"Hold still." 

He looked up as he felt her hand wipe from one side of his forehead to the other. 

"Yucky sweat," she said, looking down at her wet hand. 

Doggett grunted. "Yeah." She looked from her hand to his tee shirt and back again, undecided. He nodded. "Go for it," he told her. "It's filthy, anyway." 

Hesitating for just a second longer, Emily grinned then wiped her hand down the front of her dress. Chuckling, Doggett shook his head. "Your Mama is gonna pitch a fit when she sees that," he said. 

"Is she going to be up at the road?" 

Doggett shook his head. "No, honey. We'll have meet up with the others and then find someone to help us." 

"A policeman?" 

"Maybe. Or a trucker or something." 

"A stranger," she reasoned. 

"I guess so." 

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." 

Doggett glanced at her. "I'm a stranger, you know." 

That required some thought, and she clung in silence, obviously wrestling with that dilemma. "No, you're not." 

He raised his eyebrows. "You think?" 

"No. You're John Jay. And you got hurt helping me. Strangers don't do that." 

He couldn't fault her logic. "I guess so." He grinned. "I guess Emily Rose knows." 

In pain or not, he delighted in her giggles. She laughed just the way Luke had when he was tickled. The thought made him happy, a surprise in itself. Perhaps he might be able to carry her just a while longer, after all. 

chapter eleven 

His burst of happy enthusiasm trickled away too quickly, leaving him more exhausted than ever. Every stick and branch seemed anxious to trip him up, snagging his laces, catching at his pants' leg as he passed by. Breathing was becoming a sharp, stabbing chore. His arm throbbed with a dull, sulky pain, almost eclipsed by the rising agony that was his thigh. The sweat was running freely now, and he hardly noticed when Emily wiped it off any more. His eyes were fixed on the ground, willing himself not to fall. If he fell now, he wouldn't be getting up again. 

"Look, there's the road." Emily pointed up the slope. Doggett raised his head slightly. Blessed tarmac called to him. He gasped in relief. Half a dozen more steps and he could rest, six more painful paces. He cried out in protest as Emily wriggled in the crook of his arm. "There's the others!" The gasp turned to a half sob as he looked down the road to see Skinner and the other children 50 yards away, standing in the turn-out. Skinner was crouched on the ground looking over one of the little ones. Ethan, Doggett's memory supplied as his legs turned to over-cooked spaghetti and began to fold. 

"Oh, sh..." He muttered, angry at his body for betraying him. He sank to his good knee, rolling onto his hip in an ungainly heap. His descent was slow enough for Emily to free herself from his grip and brace her hands on the ground. 

"Oops," she said, sitting down heavily. 

Doggett leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat, blinded by sweat. His tee shirt clung to his back, an unpleasant second skin. 

"Christ..." he whispered, helpless. He didn't have the energy to shout for help. It was all he could do to keep pulling breath into his body. His one arm trembled under his weight, threatening to deposit him face first on the ground. 

He felt a cool hand on his forehead and his head was tipped up. 

"Are you going to be sick?" she asked him. Doggett shook his head. Hopefully not, he thought. That would be just too humiliating. "Okay." She peered into his eyes. "Do you want me to shout for them, then?" 

He nodded. He was relinquishing responsibility to someone who couldn't be more than six or seven years old, but he was too wiped out to really care. 

"HEY! Here!!" Emily bawled down the road, waving madly. Quite an impressive noise for such a little girl, Doggett thought. He watched as Walter snapped around, head up and mouth open. The look on his face told Doggett all he needed to know about what the other man had thought had happened. He raised his injured arm as far as it would go in a feeble wave and watched as his lover shot to his feet and sprinted up the hill faster than a man of his age had any right to run. He skidded to a halt, falling to his knees in front of them before Doggett had had chance to take more than two deep breaths. 

"Oh, God.... John..." Walter's hand came out to steady Doggett's shoulder and he watched the older man's face contort briefly. 

"I'm okay," Doggett told him, being a little economical with the truth. 

"Oh God..." Skinner seemed at a loss for anything else to say. Doggett grinned shakily, ridiculously pleased. He knew Skinner wasn't one for big public displays, the look on his face was enough. 

"Boy, am I glad to see you," he said shaking his head. "There was a moment back there..." He trailed off, re-living every painful bounce across the ground. Skinner's hand tightened on his shoulder, and then before Doggett could say anything more, he found himself pulled into a crushing hug. Doggett's eyes widened in surprise. He wobbled, off-balance, only Skinner's arms and large chest keeping him from falling flat on his face. 

"I thought..." Skinner started to say. 

"I know," Doggett replied, wincing against his neck. "I know." He patted the broad back with his good hand. "It's okay, Walt. It's okay." 

The hug lasted no more than thirty seconds, then they pushed each other away, grinning stupidly. Skinner turned to their small audience and cleared his throat. He worked his jaw for a moment before trusting himself to speak. 

"Hi," he said. 

"You're John Jay's best friend." 

Surprise registered for an instant, then he nodded with a slight smile. "I am." 

"We jumped out of the bus," Emily told him. "And banged heads." 

"Are you okay?" 

"Uh huh," she replied, nodding. "But I got a hurt foot and John Jay has a bad leg and arm." She solemnly pointed at each in turn. 

"Is that so?" 

Skinner looked at Doggett. He gently ran his hand down the arm Doggett cradled close to his body. "This one?" 

Doggett nodded. "Yeah. But I'll live." 

"Can you walk?" 

Snorting, Doggett gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I guess so. With some help, maybe." 

It seemed like Skinner couldn't take his eyes off him. Doggett liked that. He stared back, trying to communicate how he felt. "That's good," Skinner said softly. He ran his thumb over the back of Doggett's hand. "I'm glad. Very glad." 

Doggett nodded, knowing what he meant. "C'mon. Help me up." 

They levered against each other as they stood up, Skinner taking more than his share of the weight. He looped an arm around Doggett's waist, bracing himself against his battered body. 

"Okay?" 

"Okay," Doggett lied. "Let's go." 

Skinner propped Doggett's shoulder against a tree and bent to scoop Emily up. "Can't he carry me?" she asked, looking over to Doggett. 

"I think we should let John have a little rest, don't you?" Skinner perched her on his hip and held his arm out for Doggett. "Maybe another time." Together they lurched down the slope towards the other children. Every step was a fresh trial for Doggett. One that he kept to himself behind tightly closed lips. It was almost over. He wouldn't need to pretend he was brave much longer. He'd get drugs. 

"He bumped his behind, too." Skinner gave Emily a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. "But his nose was the grossest thing." She shuddered dramatically. 

Skinner grinned. "Really?" He gave Doggett's waist a secret squeeze. "We'll have to get him checked out from beak to butt, then." 

"From beak-to-butt; beak-to-butt!" Emily chanted in a sing-song voice, fingering the neckline of Skinner's tee shirt. 

Doggett scowled. "Nice one. You can explain that to her mother." Skinner smiled. 

"Hey!" Peter ran up to meet them. "You're okay!" He clapped his hands. "Cool!" 

"I thought you were dead," Jason told them, walking over and looking them both up and down, seemingly disappointed at the lack of major injuries. 

Skinner sighed. "We all know what you thought, young man. Now go back and stand where I asked you to. Away from the road." 

"Peter moved, too!" 

"And he can go back, too," Skinner told him firmly. "Go." 

Doggett chuckled. "You're a natural, Walt." 

Skinner walked them over to the other children and bent to place Emily on the grass by the road. "I think not. I had one in tears and another sulking the entire time." He stood. "I think I'll stick to Special Agents, thank you." Moving to take hold of Doggett's arm, he eased him to the ground. 

Laughing, Doggett grimaced as he as his ass made contact. "Awww. And there's me thinkin' we could adopt." 

Skinner glared at him. "Just sit there and entertain this lot, Doggett." Ignoring the laughter following him, he turned and strode out into the middle of the road, glancing in both directions, waiting for traffic. 

"He'll get squashed, standing there," Jason announced solemnly. Doggett sighed. Here we go again, he thought. 

"Shut up, Jason." Nathan snapped. "I'm sick of you." 

Jason's tongue poked out. "Make me." 

"Hey, now..." Doggett held up a hand. "Let's just be friends, huh? We're all tired and sore. Fighting isn't going to help any." 

"He started it," Jason pouted. 

"And I'm finishing it," Doggett told him sternly. "Be nice or be quiet." 

In the silence that followed, Doggett shuffled over to the boy lying on the grass and leaned against a tree. "How y'doin', buddy? You feelin' better?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Great. You keep at it." 

Leaning his back against the bark, Doggett sighed. It felt good to finally allow himself to relax. The adrenaline had fizzled out, leaving his sore body perfect opportunity to bitch and complain at the treatment it had received. It made the most of the respite, levels of pain rising up and settling into a steady thrum of discomfort. He winced. This was going to take more than a few Advil to sort out. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the back of his eyelids. At least they didn't hurt. 

chapter twelve. 

Doggett frowned in his sleep.  
It was getting hard to breathe. His chest was tight, and something was tickling his neck. Panic bubbled under the surface of his dreams. He was lying on the ground, his leg hurt. He opened his eyes in the dream and looked up into Rudy's face. His friend was saying something he couldn't hear, holding him so tightly he couldn't breathe. Even upside down, the fear on Rudy's face frightened him. This wasn't right. He had never lain in Rudy's arms like this, hurting and scared. It was the wrong way around, mixed up. 

Swallowing around an exceptionally dry mouth, Doggett remembered what he had been taught in the Marine hospital, shook his head from side to side and took a deep breath to force himself to wake up from the dream. He wrenched his eyes open, blinking twice to clear the sleep out of them and looked down. A dark head was wedged just below his chin. He frowned, peering around it. Emily lay in his lap, curled up like a mouse, thumb in mouth, fast asleep. It was her hair that was tickling his neck. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his panicky awakening. 

"She likes you," Nathan told him. He sat cross-legged on the grass. He was holding Ethan's hand in his. "She's been there for ages." Nodding, Doggett looked down again, relief cooling the sheet of perspiration on him. It was just a dream. He was okay. Stiff and sore, but okay. He squirmed, uncomfortable, but reluctant to wake the child. She deserved her nap. 

"How long?" he whispered. 

Nathan shrugged. "Dunno. I don't have a watch. Seems like ages." 

Doggett nodded and looked down at Emily. Her eyelashes twitched against her cheeks. She must be having a dream, he thought. He hoped it was better than the one he'd had. He gently brushed some dirt from above her eyebrow. The scrape looked red and angry. Maybe it was going to leave a mark. He hoped not. There was a trace of bruise coming out under her eye. Look like she was going to have a black eye too. 

The sound of tires on gravel pulled his eyes up to the road. A police cruiser stood in the middle of the turn-out, lights on, dust swirling around in the sunshine. He watched Skinner jog around to the driver's door, lean in and speak. It wouldn't be long now. One of the officers climbed out of the cruiser and walked over to the little group. 

"Hey," he said, hitching up his pants and squatting down. "We've been out looking for you guys." 

Jason stood up. "The bus driver's dead. He crashed the bus and it fell down the cliff and we were all nearly dead." 

"Uh huh." The policeman nodded." Is that so?" He turned to Doggett. "Sir? Do you know if all the children managed to exit the vehicle?" 

Doggett nodded. "Everyone got out but the driver." He didn't bother to add to what Jason said about him. 

"Okay. Thank you. My partner's calling for back-up. We should get the emergency services here in the next coupla' minutes." He leaned over to look at Ethan. "Is he okay?" 

"Was unconscious for a while. Better get him checked out first." 

The cop nodded at looked at the others. "Sure. And the rest of you?" 

Jason took a breath but Nathan beat him to it. "We got banged up some, but Ethan was the most baddest hurt." He glared at the other boy and stuck out his tongue. 

"Well, you sound like you're in charge here, son." The cop smiled. 

"Uh uh." He pointed at Skinner. "He is. And him. They rescued us." 

Doggett looked down at Emily, still asleep. He was way too sore to argue with the boy, even if he was of a mind to. 

"That right?" 

Doggett listened with half an ear while Nathan and Peter told the policeman what had happened, interrupted occasionally by the amazingly depressive Jason. Doggett thought that if that child wasn't already in therapy, then he ought to be. He stroked the side of Emily's face. She would need to wake up now things were happening. 

"Hey...' he said softly as she opened her eyes and pulled the thumb out with a pop. "How y'doin'?" 

She yawned. Then wiped her thumb on her dress. "Don't tell daddy I did that, will you?" 

"What, wiped spit on your dress?" 

"No, silly." She rubbed at her eyes. "He says I'm too old to suck my thumb any more." 

"Oh." He smiled and winked. "Tell you what... It'll be our little secret. I won't tell if you don't tell that I chewed my nails." 

Her eyebrows rose in an uncanny imitation of Dana Scully. "I think he'll guess that, already." 

He laughed. "Gee, thanks, Emily Rose." 

She smiled and touched one of his ears. "But I won't tell, anyway." 

Doggett looked up as Skinner approached with the other officer, all business-like. "EMS are on their way. ETA three minutes." 

Doggett grinned. Back into AD mode. "Cool, Walt. You round 'em up." 

"One of us has to be in charge." He folded his arms. "You're too busy being a hero." 

Doggett snorted. In his lap, Emily copied him. He looked down. "Yeah, you tell him, babe." She snorted again a couple of times. 

Skinner smiled. "Mock me, will you?" 

"Yeah. What can I do? It's too easy." 

Grunting, Skinner turned to the cops as the sound of sirens wailed through the trees. "Okay. They're almost here. Shall we get the kids together?" He pointed at Ethan. "Don't move this one, let the paramedics check him out first. Just to be on the safe side." 

The larger of the two cops clapped his hands together. "Okay, kids. Let's go." 

Pete, Nathan and Jason all stood up. Laurie scrambled to her feet and stood behind Nathan, peering out at Skinner. 

Doggett reached out his hand and took Ethan's hand in his. "I'll stay with this guy. You sort out the others." He didn't want to add that he wasn't sure he had the willpower to get up. He hitched his butt a little. "Hey, Walt. You wanna take madam offa me? I think my ass went to sleep." 

He looked down, instantly guilty. Maybe she hadn't been listening. 

"Your ass went to sleep?" she said, sitting up. 

"Um..." 

"Ass-ass-ass..." 

He groaned. "Don't say that, honey. It's a bad word." 

"You said it." 

"I know." He rubbed his eyes. "But I'm a grown-up. And sometimes..." His hand dropped down. 

"Ass." 

He sighed. "Emily. Please, don't." 

"Butt to beak?" she offered helpfully. 

Doggett closed his eyes. He and Walt were going to have some serious explaining to her parents. "Maybe you'd better not say that, either, sweetheart." 

She sighed and rolled her eyes.   
Doggett wondered if there was a special class that girls went to learn how to make men feel guilty. 

chapter thirteen. 

The journey to the hospital was every bit as painful as Doggett expected. What he'd thought was a pristine mountain road had turned into a vicious, pot-holed nightmare, intent on rattling all his bones. He'd lain inside the ambulance, eyes tightly shut, submitting to all the attentions of the paramedics, trying to relax, without much success. Skinner had followed behind the little convoy of ambulances, sitting up front in the cruiser. Doggett smiled to himself at the thought of the conversation that must have passed between the cops and an Assistant Director of the FBI . What was less amusing, was the thought of the official report: no way could they brush this under the carpet. Their names were going to be all over the regional, if not national law enforcement wires. How they were going to explain why 2 people supposedly at opposite ends of the country ended up in the Sierra foothills was going to be an exercise in creative writing. 

Lying on a bed in Placerville County Hospital, he had plenty of time to think about it. He also had plenty of time to think about how he was going to replace his birthday shirt. He'd watched the attending ER doctor smirk as she cut it off him, only the surly presence of the AD preventing a smartass remark of some kind. Sal would be upset he'd managed to trash it so soon. He'd have to see if there were any Disney shops in the area. Maybe he should ask one of the kid's parents. 

He'd seen all the anxious faces from flat on his back on a gurney when they had made their entrance at the hospital. The noise and feeling of desperate hope in the room had brought back memories he'd hoped never to re-visit. The procession of well-meaning and grateful parents that had popped into his room at various times that night had all but wiped him out. In the end, Skinner had to virtually stand guard outside the room for him to try and get some sleep. But on the positive side, the doctor had said he could be discharged today, since he wasn't pissing blood. He looked down as he stood urinating, curling his toes at the cold flooring. After the damned uncomfortable night he'd spent, wriggling and squirming in the bed trying to find a position that didn't aggravate his battered body, he was pleasantly surprised to see his water running clear. He flushed then ran the faucets. Sighing he contemplated the awkward process of washing himself with one hand. The wrist fracture had been another surprise, but not a totally unexpected one. 

"Hey... Anyone home?" 

Doggett grinned and turned the water off. "In here. You're just in time." 

Skinner appeared around the door. "Oh yeah?" 

Doggett turned around. "You wanna gimme a hand, here? I'm sorta out of commission." He held up the cast. 

"Yeah... How are you feeling? I wish I could have been with you, last night." Skinner said, dropping the store bag he was holding . He leaned in to kiss Doggett, running his hands down his bare shoulders, smiling at the slight shiver it elicited. 

"Man, I wish you'd been here, too. And to tell the truth, I feel pretty shitty," Doggett admitted. "But I guess I could be worse. At least I can still stand upright." 

Skinner turned him around gently, whistling softly at the bruises and scrapes that trailed across Doggett's torso. "Looks even more painful today." 

"Tell me about it." He dipped his free hand in the water and flicked it at Skinner. "Now stop starin' at the cripple and make yourself useful." 

Doggett stood and allowed his lover to wash him, luxuriating in the warmth of the water and the even warmer attentions on his bare flesh as each area was sponged and then kissed better between towel strokes. By the time he had been bathed from top to bottom, Doggett stood groaning, eyes slipping shut in pure hedonistic glee, propped against the bathroom sink by his one good arm. An arm slightly trembling with the weight and arousal. 

Through slitted eyes, he could see Skinner standing behind him, concentrating on drying between his shoulder-blades with infinite care. "Oh, yeah," he muttered as Skinner kissed his back. "I could get used to this." 

"You think?" 

"Hhhhhmmmm." A hand snaked around and began to worm its way under the elastic of his hospital pants. It stroked his already half-erect cock. Skinner leaned around and kissed the side of his face. 

"Could you get used to this?" 

"Uh huh." Doggett turned to initiate an open-mouthed kiss. Tongues slid easily against each other as Skinner began to stroke him more firmly. Doggett groaned. 

"S'it hurt?" Skinner asked, breathing into Doggett's warm neck, taking care not to lean too heavily on the bruised back. 

The spiky head shook. "Feels good." 

"Sure?" 

"Uh huh." 

The hand squeezed. "You want to take this up a notch?" 

Doggett nodded, eyes still slitted. He allowed Skinner to turn him around and lean his ass against the sink. Looking down, he watched as his blue hospital-issue pants were slowly peeled down his legs. His dick bounced as the elastic scraped over it. He smiled. 

"Looking good," Skinner said from on his knees. 

"Feels pretty good, now," Doggett muttered. Despite the steady throb of his injuries, he felt ready for this, ready for some pleasure. Bracing himself, he twitched in excitement as Skinner's head dipped forward to lick the end of his cock. 

"Shit!" 

Skinner looked up at him, grinning. He licked again. 

"Bastard." 

Then he was silent as his dick disappeared inside Skinner's mouth. The burning wet spiked all the way to his balls, making them tighten in the cool bathroom air. As Skinner expertly bobbed back and forwards, impaled on his flesh, he was unable to help the little grunts of counterpoint rhythm that bubbled out of him. He gripped the edge of the sink unit tightly, his other hand good only for smoothing the top of the bald head at his groin. He rocked lazily as Skinner sucked and teased. 

When he felt a hand easing his legs apart to cup his balls, he was overwhelmed by a surge of erotic pleasure that tightened his abdomen and loosened his knees. His eyes slid shut the moment Skinner swirled his tongue around the head of his cock in a rapid clockwise-motion. That was usually the key to his orgasm. They had discovered this weakness during a lazy Sunday morning session of love making. It never ceased to make Skinner laugh, and Doggett come. Today was no exception. Broken bones or not, he came in a shuddering, spastic thrust of his hips. 

"Fuck..." 

Skinner wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stood, steadying Doggett's trembling body, a wide grin all over his face. 

"I don't think we've got time, big guy." He dipped his head to kiss Doggett's mouth, his tongue insisting that the other man taste himself. Doggett grunted and kissed him back with lazy enthusiasm. "But hold that thought. I want to bury myself in this ass soon." He reached around and cupped Doggett's behind and squeezed, pressing their bodies together. 

Holding tightly to the other man, Doggett allowed himself to go boneless for a second, trusting Skinner to support his weight. He knew Skinner wouldn't expect him to reciprocate, despite the large erection that was digging into his thigh. He stood, still, just inhaling the familiar scent and getting his breath back. 

"Hello?"   
A voice called through from the main room, making the pair of them jump. They separated and looked at one another. Amusement and embarrassment battled for equal space on their faces. Doggett grinned, raised his eyebrows and glanced down at his partially-clothed body. His pants were still pooled around his ankles. 

"Erm... yes?" Skinner called through the crack in the doorway. 

"Mr. Doggett? I have some papers for you to sign." 

Skinner pulled an 'oops' expression at Doggett. "Mr. Doggett will be right with you," He said with an edge of authority in his voice that his face didn't show. "He's just changing into some clean clothes I brought in." Kicking his foot towards the bag on the floor, Skinner nodded down at it. "You need help?" he whispered. 

Grinning, Doggett waved his no-longer rigid dick. "I think you helped enough, big guy. Get outta here." 

As the other man slipped through the door, Doggett listened with half an ear to the conversation between his lover and the nurse, while digging around in the store bag Walt had brought in. He pulled out a fresh pair of jeans, underwear and socks; in matching blue, making him smile. He struggled into the briefs and jeans, the button fly defeating him. He left that open and tugged socks over his feet, leaning on the sink. He pulled the short-sleeved shirt out from the bottom of the bag and almost barked out a laugh. Somehow Skinner had managed to find what must have been the only Piglet shirt in a ten mile radius. It was white, three-buttoned at the neck with the little pink creature sitting discreetly on the left side of the chest and the cuff of one sleeve. Shaking his head, he wriggled into it, undecided whether to kiss or kill his lover. 

He and the nurse both turned to look as he emerged from the bathroom, smoothing his hair down. They both smirked at his shirt. Doggett pursed his lips. The young woman was standing just a tad too close to his man for Doggett's taste. And Skinner didn't look as thought he objected in the least to her proximity. 

"Thought you might gimme a hand with this," Doggett drawled, prowling over to Skinner, thrusting his groin out suggestively. He grinned triumphantly as the blush crawled over Skinner's face, until the other man made a move to fasten the buttons. Gotcha, lover, he thought, as the AD fumbled the fastening. Doggett winked at the young nurse. 

"You okay, down there?" he teased, pushing his groin further in Skinner's face. 

"Fuck you, Doggett," Skinner muttered under his breath, his back to the woman. He jerked the shirt down with a savage tug and stepped away, glaring. Doggett just grinned at him. 

"Um... I need you to sign these," the woman said, flipping through several papers and shoving them towards Doggett. He looked down at them. Then at his encased left hand. He looked pointedly back at her. "Ah..." she said. "You're a leftie I guess?" 

"Uh huh." 

"Oh." She frowned. Then sighed. "Okay. Just do the best you can. I'll countersign to witness it's your signature." 

Leaning on the bed, Doggett scrawled his name on several sheets of paper, not bothering to read them, trusting he wasn't signing his vital organs away for experimentation while he was still alive. 

"Okay?" He handed the pen back. 

"That's... great." She glanced twice at the squiggly mess. 

"That's better than his usual handwriting," Skinner said. He stood by the bed, his arms folded. 

Doggett curled his lip at Skinner and picked up the foam sling from the bed, slipping it over his head. He glanced discreetly at the name badge perched on a remarkably large pair of breasts. "It okay if we get outta here, now... Paula?" He poked his cast in the loop and settled it comfortably. 

"Absolutely. You're free to go, Mr. Doggett. These are release papers." She smiled and waved towards the door. "See you. Take care." 

"We will." Doggett's smile faded a little as the door hissed shut behind Paula. 

"What's up?" Skinner rubbed his hand across Doggett's back. 

Leaning in to the touch, Doggett sighed. "I was just wonderin' how the hell we're gonna manage without a car." 

Skinner smiled. "Already sorted out. New Lexus from the dealership." 

Doggett's eyebrow raised. "The insurance covered being swiped by a bus while we're plannin' to fuck in the woods?" 

Laughing, Skinner shook his head. "Well, I left that bit of information out. Didn't think it was relevant. Besides, it'd be a posthumous claim if we'd still been in the car, so they got off lightly." 

"Yeah." Doggett flexed his back muscles, pulling against the bruises. "I suppose." 

"And I visited the store this morning. We both have enough clothes for at least a couple of days." He slipped his arm around Doggett's shoulders. "That's if we don't get too dirty," he whispered in an ear. 

Doggett grinned. "I love it when you go all take-charge." He turned his head for a kiss. 

It didn't take long for it to deepen into something with definite carnal intent. Skinner broke away first, laughing. "Down, boy. We can't very well walk the corridors carrying wood, now can we?" He hitched at the front of his pants for emphasis. 

"I guess not." 

Blowing another kiss to him, Doggett grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and started to follow Skinner out of the room. Sliding his wallet into his back pocket, he hesitated, his hand on the door. Skinner turned to look at him. "What?" 

"Nothin'." 

Skinner stood with his hands on his hips, blocking the way. "Give. There's something on your mind. You've got that look on your face." 

Doggett smiled. "What look?" 

"The I-have-something-on-my-mind look." 

Doggett laughed. "That's dumb." 

"But accurate." Skinner tilted his chin up. "Give." 

Stubbornly refusing to answer for several long seconds, Doggett sighed and rolled his eyes. "All right. I give in. I guess I was just wonderin' how those other two were doin'. You know, Emily and Ethan. I don't think their parents came around last night." 

Skinner nodded. "Maybe they're still in here. We could say our goodbyes then head on out towards Auburn. That's if you still want to go try and find Michael?" 

Doggett nodded. "Yeah. I guess. Seems a shame not to do this, bein' as we got so close." 

"Then let's do it." 

Striding ahead, Skinner made off down the corridor to a nurses station. He leaned over the counter and spoke quietly to Paula. Doggett ambled towards them, deep in thought. It might be asking a bit much of himself to go ahead and meet his brother after all that had happened, but he wanted to at least make some kind of effort at finding the other man. And he didn't relish explaining wimping out to his sister. Maybe he and Walt could do some digging in the town to see the lay of the land. He would admit that he was intrigued as to what his brother looked like, at least. He and Sal were alike, despite the age-gap and Michael was only seven years younger than him. It was something to think about. Reaching Skinner's side, he leaned against the shiny counter. 

"I think most of the kids have been discharged by now. Just a couple of them left." 

Paula pushed her glasses up her nose in what Doggett privately thought of as a patented 'Walter Skinner' gesture. His head was still fuzzy, thanks to a restless night's sleep. 

"D'you think we could go see the ones that are left? Say goodbye an' all?" He tried to scratch the back of his neck but the sling was in the way. He hoped she wouldn't think they were perverts. 

"I'm sure they'd be delighted to see you." She pointed at a flight of stairs labeled Pediatrics. "The stairs are over there. Just follow the signs." 

"Er..." Doggett rubbed his leg. "Is there an elevator we could take? I'm not up to mountain-climbing just yet." 

"Oh. I'm sorry! I should have remembered." She smiled. "End of the walkway there. I'll show you." 

Trailing along slowly behind the brisk nurse, Doggett glanced at where Skinner's eyes were wandering and gave him a nudge and a look that said: 'I know what you're thinking'. He was rewarded by a guilty smirk in the reflection of the elevator doors. As the pastel shades of the rest of the hospital surrendered to the primary colors of youth, busy murals and brightly-painted pictures bombarded their senses. There was an air of excitement and fun that all but drowned out the usual hospital smell. Somewhere, cookies were being baked, and the sound of laughter trickled out of several open doors. It didn't feel like a hospital, but that was probably the idea, Doggett supposed as the elevator doors hissed shut behind them. 

"The little boy is just in there - the third door on the left. And the girl is in room 54." She patted Doggett on his good arm. "You take care, now. Come and see us if you get any problems, you hear?" 

He smiled. "We're moving on today, but I'll remember that." 

She smiled broadly at Skinner and walked back towards the stairs. Doggett looked at his lover and shook his head. 

"C'mon, Romeo." 

He knocked on the door and entered when a woman's voice called him in. 

chapter fourteen. 

"Okay... You take care now.... Bye." Backing out of the room, pushing Skinner out in front of him, Doggett stepped into the corridor and pulled the door shut with a snap. He paused, took a deep breath and turned to look at the other man. Skinner was standing with one hand wrapped around his middle, the other clamped to his mouth, his face slowly turning puce. 

"Fuckin' hell," Doggett whispered. Then he couldn't stand the look on Skinner's face any longer and began to choke. Desperate to keep any noise from escaping, he too covered his mouth and stared to limp down the corridor, gasps and snorts escaping from behind his hand. "Jesus..." He spluttered. "Oh god...." Braced against a wall around a corner, he bent over and let rip with laughter. 

Skinner stood beside him, holding his arm, shaking with mirth. "Oh, Christ!" He wiped the back of his hands over his eyes. 

Doggett heaved a few calming breaths in. Laughing hurt, but felt good, nevertheless. He should really go back and thank Ethan's mother for the tonic. Clearing his throat, he stood up straight and arranged his face into a stern expression. 

"You know, I don't think this behavior is becoming for an Assistant Director of the FBI." He maintained the facade for a couple of seconds, before collapsing in another fit of choked laughter. 

"Oh, Lord." Skinner shook his head. When she offered you the joint I thought I'd piss my pants." 

"You think we should go back and bust her?" 

Skinner shook his head. "Nah. I'm on vacation." He grinned. "Was tempting, though." 

Doggett straightened up. "Assistant Director, I'm shocked and stunned." 

Skinner shook his head. "Fuck you. I saw the way your eyes lit up." 

"Another time, another life, maybe." He rubbed his face, looking up and down the corridor. "I'm gonna need to take a leak before we get in the car." 

"Now, or after we've seen the other kid?" 

Doggett adjusted his jeans. "After, I guess." He grinned, tilting his head back. "I think we should phone Jerry Springer... There's material for a whole show in there." 

"True. Wonder where she hid the banjo-player?" 

Fighting a fresh wave of mirth, Doggett began to scour the numbered doors, walking down the corridor. Doggett pointed over Skinner's shoulder. "Hey... Room 54." 

Skinner glanced back. "You think we're going to come face-to-face with someone swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool?" 

Doggett laughed. "Hey... You social fascist. What happened to celebrating diversity?" 

Skinner snorted. "You watch too much Star Trek." 

"At least I don't watch Jerry." 

"Liar." Skinner patted his pocket. "Okay Let's get on with this. Sooner we get this done, sooner we can be off. There's a top of the line Lexus downstairs with my name on it." 

Doggett winked and raised his hand to knock on door number 54. He jumped as it swung open before he had chance to knock and a woman strode out into the corridor. He put his good hand up to keep her from crashing into him. In the second it took to catch hold of her, his eyes had done the typical male up-and-down thing and informed his brain that they liked what they saw. The woman smiled and he returned the gesture in full. 

"I'm sorry," she laughed, stepping back to get her balance. 

"No, it's my fault." Doggett felt his smile broaden. She was really very attractive. Dark brown hair, almost black, cut in a pretty bob. Her eyes were dark too. He felt a surge of primal attraction. He liked dark eyes. 

"Did you want..." She gestured into the room. 

"I...Um... I was looking for a little girl," he said, cursing himself for stuttering like an idiot. 

"Really?" Her tone and smile teased him and he felt himself blush. 

"Er... Well, I guess." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "It's not like it sounds." 

"I don't suppose it is." She looked him up and down, making Doggett wonder if she also liked what she saw and what she made of the sling, black eye and grazes he sported. Belatedly he remembered the Piglet shirt. He wondered what she made of that, too. 

"Yeah... I was looking for um..." he started. 

Her smile broadened. "You must be John," she said, "John Jay," she corrected. 

Doggett stared, nodding. "Yeah... just 'John' is fine. I mean, how did you...?" 

She laughed, her hair falling back as she shook her head. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard your name in the past 24 hours. John Jay this... John Jay that..." She leaned in to whisper. "And besides, the shirt is a dead give-away." 

Doggett felt his face redden again. Damn Skinner and Sal. "Yeah? Well..." he began, finding himself wanting to explain. 

Then her smile faltered as she looked at him, then over to Skinner. "Thank you," she said, seriously. "Thank you so much." 

Doggett didn't know quite what to say. 'You're welcome' hadn't sounded right when he'd said it to the other parents. And 'it was a pleasure' was even worse. He chewed the inside of his lip, aware that he probably looked a complete doofus. Skinner saved the moment by stepping to his side and putting out his hand. 

"We're just glad that we were there and able to help, ma'am." 

The woman shook his hand. "Thank you, Walter, isn't it? I'm Kathy by the way." 

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to express my feelings about what you did. It's all so..." She swallowed. "So dreadful." 

She let go of Skinner's hand and looked around the corridor, her hand going to her forehead, obviously deeply moved. She took a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm all over the place. You never think anything is going to happen on a school day. And then you get a phone call." 

Doggett watched the moment play over in her eyes and knew that she was re-living perhaps the most terrible moment that she'd ever experienced. He also knew that sometimes there were worse moments . He hoped with all his soul that Kathy with the pretty, dark eyes never ever got close to one of those moments. 

"It's okay," he told her. "Everything's okay, now." 

She laughed with false bravado. "Yes. It is." She self-consciously wiped her eyes. "Thanks to you two." 

There was a moment's hesitation, then she leaned in to put her arms around Doggett's shoulders in a gentle hug. Caught by surprise, he stood there motionless, belatedly remembering to bring his arm up to touch her back. His eyes closed briefly, enjoying the contact, breathing in the sharp apple smell of her shampoo. He could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest despite the light embrace. He held his broken arm still, anxious not to touch her intimately. 

She held him for a few seconds, then stepped back and nodded. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Doggett nodded, unable to think of anything to say that wasn't trite or flippant. Before the moment became awkward, she brightened. "Would you like to come in say hello to Emily? I know she'd love to see you again." 

He gave her a broad smile. "Well, we did kinda hope to say hi, before we go." 

Waving her arm, she pushed the door open. "Please. Come in." 

As Doggett moved past her, he felt a sharp jab in the back that let him know that Skinner knew exactly what had been going through his head. This business of knowing one another so well had its downside, Doggett thought. 

"John Jay!" A voice from the bed cut that train of thought in two. "You came to see me!" 

Doggett smiled at the squealed enthusiasm. "I sure did. I wanted to see how you're gettin' on." 

Emily crawled down the bed to hang onto the rail at the bottom. Her daisy dress had been replaced by a hospital issue nightgown. "LOOK! I have a Piglet too!" she told him in a voice louder than the small room and Doggett's ears were comfortable with. She stood up and plucked at the front of the nightgown. There were small Pooh Bear and Piglet prints all over it. 

Doggett peered. "Gee, so you do. How 'bout that." 

Before he had chance to say no, or think twice, she bounced on one foot to the edge of the bed and launched herself at him. He caught her with his good arm, too surprised to do anything but try and hang on to his balance and breath. 

"Emily!" Her mother sounded mortified. "Emily get down." 

With his back to the others, Doggett allowed himself a wince of discomfort at the tight hug. Being climbed by a child wasn't top of his list of things to do right at that moment, his bruises were clear on that, but despite the pain it caused, he had to admit it was rather nice to be hugged by a little kid again. Even someone else's. 

"Emily, get down, please. You might be too heavy." 

"It's okay, mama. John Jay is strong." 

Doggett pulled a face behind a curtain of dark hair. He wondered if he could hold her long enough to put her down gently, or if she was just going to slither out of his grasp and land on the floor in a heap. Macho pride was a bitch sometimes. "It's okay," he ground out between clenched teeth. To his relief, she pulled away and stood back on the bed, standing on one leg, using him as a balancing-pole. 

"Look... I have a bandage too." She held her foot up for inspection. "It's not broken, just trained." 

Doggett smiled. "Is that so?" 

"Uh huh." She wiggled her toes. "See? I can move them. Can you move yours?" Her foot went down and she moved to look at his sling. "Does it still hurt?" 

Doggett shrugged. "Not so much, now." 

She messed with the cast, tapping it curiously, scratching at it. Doggett allowed her to poke her small fingers underneath where his own poked out. He wriggled them suddenly, making her giggle. 

"We have the same eye, too." She pointed to where her face was marred by a smudge of black. 

"Yeah, we do. Must have been when we bumped heads." 

She put her face close to his and peered at his black eye. He blinked, knowing it would show the discoloration on his top lid. "Wow..." She came closer. "Does it hurt?" Her finger came up to touch. 

Doggett moved back a bit. "Only when someone pokes it." 

"Emily, let John take a breath." Kathy indicated to the chair by the bedside. "Sit, please." 

Doggett sank gratefully into the red plastic bucket seat. His leg ached like a demon. "Thanks." 

"I'm sorry about this; she's just so excited to see you." She raised an eyebrow. "Actually, she'd not usually this bouncy around new people." 

Emily scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her legs down to rest her feet on Doggett's knees. "John's not new - he's old. His birthday's the same as mine, and he had a Piglet shirt. He said my Barbie bag was cool." 

Doggett could sense Skinner smirking. He glanced up to confirm it. 

"Maybe I should have gotten you a Barbie bag, instead of running shoes," his lover teased. 

Doggett just looked at him. Skinner grinned. "Or maybe a Barbie tee shirt?" 

Narrowing his eyes, Doggett tried to silently convey his displeasure. 

"Ooh, that's a good idea!" Emily bounced. "Can I have a Barbie tee shirt like John's, mommy?" 

Doggett noted how Kathy's lip was bitten down as she tried not to laugh. Even if he and Skinner weren't involved, his chances of getting to first base with this woman were now non-existent. Thanks to the tee shirt and Barbie, he was not only way outside of the ball park, he was locked in his metaphorical car. He sighed. "I don't want a Barbie shirt, Emily. Guys don't wear them, I think." He glanced to his side, glaring. 

"Oh." The child sounded disappointed. "That's a shame." 

"Never mind, John," Skinner grinned, patting his shoulder. "Maybe next year." 

Doggett clenched his teeth. He and Skinner were definitely going to have a chat about this, later. He shifted in his seat, acutely aware of the logo on his shirt. He belatedly wondered if it screamed 'gay'. Emily padded her feet up and down on his knees, humming to herself. He cleared his throat, determined to change the subject. "So... Are you getting outta here today?" 

Kathy nodded. "Uh huh. We're just waiting on my husband to come collect us. He was at a meeting in Sacramento." She checked her watch. "He'll be a couple of hours yet. But he'll be sorry to miss you." 

"Well, you tell him we said hi," Doggett told her. 

"You can't wait?" 

He shook his head, glancing up at Skinner for confirmation. "We're movin' on just now. Got a new rental car. Might be stopping off at a mall someplace, buy a buncha new stuff." He arched his eyebrow at Skinner. "Seems like some people can't be trusted to buy me clothes." Skinner just grinned at him. 

Kathy nodded. "There's a good place just in town. Not too expensive. You 'll get some great bargains. It's where I do all our clothes shopping. Tally's, it's called. Big place by the firehouse." 

"Uh huh." 

"I saw it." Skinner said. "It's near the car dealership." 

Doggett listened with half an ear, absently playing tag with Emily's wriggling toes. She giggled each time he came near to catching one. "Gotcha..." he muttered, snagging her big toe. She squealed in delight, making him smile. It was nice to play like this. Not too many opportunities to interact with kids in the FBI. Not nice normal ones, anyway. 

"You know what?" Emily patted his leg with her foot. "You and Walt should come to my house and have some tea. I have lots of birthday cake left and I could show you all my gifts and my dog and my cat." 

Doggett's mouth dropped open a little. "Well, I..." 

"Oh, Em. I don't think John and Walt have the time." Kathy rolled her eyes in amusement. 

"Mommy. It's not very far to go." 

Doggett jiggled his leg. "That's very kind of you, Emily. But I think we better get going." 

"Please?" She leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees, cupping her chin. Doggett was caught, trapped in a pair of dark eyes, inches from his. She blinked at him. 

He hesitated, tempted for a second, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, sweetie. We're on our way to see someone. Family stuff, you know?" He told himself it wasn't exactly a lie. 

"Awwww." 

Kathy shook her head firmly. "Now, Em. No whining. No, is no." 

Emily sighed. Doggett was torn, not wanting to see her disappointed, but determined to do what they had set out to. "Hey, cheer up. I tell you what..." He reached around to his wallet and awkwardly opened it with one hand. He flipped through to the seldom-used section at the back. He pulled out one of his FBI issue business cards. "Take this, and if you ever come to Washington... You know where that is?" 

She nodded and pointed. "Over the other side." 

"That's right. Well, you give this number a call, and you can come and see me at work." He glanced up and Skinner. "Walt and me'll take you on a real good tour. Show you some stuff people don't usually get to see. Maybe even get a milkshake in the FBI canteen." He handed her the card. "Okay?" 

She took the card, turning it over a couple of times. "Spe..." She frowned, her finger running across the letters. 

"It says Special Agent." 

She nodded. "J-o-h-n ... John." 

"That's right." 

"John D-O-G-G-E-T-T." She whispered the letters a couple of times over to herself, then smiled. "Doggett. John J. Doggett." 

Doggett nodded. "That's right. You're a real clever girl." 

"That's a funny name. Dog-gett." 

"Emily!" Kathy touched her daughter's arm. 

Doggett laughed. "You're right. It is." 

Kathy shook her head. "It's no consolation I know, but you should be honored. She's usually very quiet around new people." 

Doggett couldn't help the eyebrow that rose. "Really?" 

Kathy laughed. "Honestly. You must have a way with kids. Do you have any?" 

The stab of pain wasn't as harsh as it used to be. He shook his head. "No. My son passed away. He was about Emily's age." He watched the little girl playing with his business card, clearly oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. It was getting easier to talk about Luke. Getting easier to mention his son's death, if only indirectly. He supposed this was as it should be. 

"I'm so sorry." Kathy briefly touched his arm, and to Doggett's relief, didn't ask any questions. There was silence for a moment, and then Skinner cleared his throat. Doggett looked up. 

"We ought to go now," he said. Turning to Emily, he pointed at the card. "You remember to call John if you're in town, okay?" 

"Maybe next time Daddy's in DC we could go with him." Kathy glanced at Doggett who nodded. "How about that?" 

"Yeah?" 

"We'll ask him tonight." 

Considerably brighter, Emily scrunched her toes up on Doggett's knees. "See you soon, John Jay." 

Doggett grinned. "Who knows, Emily Rose?" He lifted her feet off and stood, feeling his abused muscles object strenuously. The next motel they booked into was going to have a very large bath, he'd make sure of that. 

"Take care," he said, holding out his hand to Kathy. "And call me if you want to come across." He hesitated a second, embarrassed at the double meaning of his words. A slight twitch of her mouth told him she'd picked up on it. In a different time, he would have used the moment to flirt with her. He'd have made a funny comment, made her laugh, then perhaps asked her if she wanted to go get a drink. In another time, he would have taken the little spark of amusement in her eyes as a green light. As it was, he just shook her hand and grinned. She shook it firmly then moved to take Skinner's. 

"Thank you both again." She glanced at Doggett. "I guess you know how grateful I am." 

He nodded and turned to Emily. "See you around, Sweetheart," he said, touching the end of her nose. She giggled and Doggett thought he would remember how good that sound was for a very long time. 

"Which way are you headed?" Kathy asked. 

"Towards Auburn," Skinner said, holding the door open. "I guess John's not up to a big drive today, so I think we'll stop over near there and carry on north tomorrow." 

"Okay..." She bent over the bedside table, scribbling on a scrap of paper. "Look, I don't want to embarrass you, but we have a very big house just off the main road to Auburn. If you're passing close and can't face another motel, then we'd be honored to have you stay over." She pushed her hair behind her ear and laughed. "Or even just pop your head around the door for a coffee. Whatever." She handed the note to Skinner who slipped it in his pocket. 

"Okay." He smiled. "Thanks." Doggett wondered if everyone in the room except Emily knew they wouldn't be dropping in. 

"Bye." 

"See you." 

Kathy waved them goodbye the whole way down the corridor. As Doggett turned and waved for the third time, part of him wanted to believe it was because she found him even a little bit attractive, but he knew that it was just gratitude that kept her waving. He also knew he shouldn't feel lousy about it, but he did. 

chapter fifteen. 

"You want another drink?" Skinner held his mug up. Doggett shook his head. 

"Nah. I'm good." He slipped his ass forward in the restaurant chair and sighed. "Great meal." 

"You bet." 

Doggett glanced at the other man. He'd been quieter than usual throughout the meal. He wondered if events were catching up, or if there was something else on his mind. Whatever the reason for the long silences, Doggett was just too sore and tired to challenge the other man. The adrenaline rush of being allowed to leave hospital was fast wearing off and that, compounded by the short shopping trip and drive had depleted his reserves. He was looking forward to finding a motel and lying down. 

Skinner waved at the waitress. "Can I get the check, please?" 

Doggett idly watched the waitress's ass wobble away. "Can't recall when I've had a steak that tasted quite that good." 

Skinner grunted. "A near-death experience will do that to you." 

"I think it was more the hospital breakfast." 

"Or meeting Ethan's mommy." 

Doggett laughed softly. "Oh man. I think I need to take a refresher Public Tolerance course." 

"I'll book us in together." They looked up as Liz, their waitress stood at their table. 

"Here y'go, gents. Hope you had a great dining experience with us. You can either pay me or take it to the cashier over there." 

"Thanks." Skinner placed his credit card on the tray without bothering to look at the total. "Add a ten buck tip, okay?" 

The waitress beamed at him. "Why, thank you, sir." She hurried over to the register as if worried he might change his mind. 

"You liked her, didn't you?" 

Doggett watched the large woman bend over to pick up a stray menu. "Her? God, no." 

Skinner shook his head. "Kathy." 

Doggett shrugged. "She was nice," he said, keeping it neutral. 

"Yes, she was. But I'm not talking about 'nice'. I meant, you 'liked' her." 

Doggett looked across the table at Skinner's face. It didn't betray his feelings. But then Skinner was a master at the poker-face. But apparently he felt strongly enough that the talk was going to be sooner than later. So be it. 

"Yeah. If you wanna call me on it, then yeah. I did 'like' her." He stared across the two empty plates. "Probably the same way you 'liked' Paula the nurse." 

"Uh uh. Not the same way." Skinner leaned forward, his body language confrontational. "Paula just had a good body." 

"Great tits, you mean." 

"If you want to put it that way." 

"I do." 

Skinner lowered his voice. "Well then, yes, she had great tits." 

"Yeah. I kinda noticed you lookin'." 

Skinner folded his arms. "Yes. I did. But that's all. I was just looking." 

"And what's that supposed to mean?" 

"I looked. I didn't flirt." 

"What?!" 

Skinner shrugged. "You know what I mean." 

Frowning, Doggett threw his napkin on the table. This was beginning to piss him off. And it was also beginning to sound like the start of any one of the hundred rows he'd had with Barb. He hadn't bothered to question the length of time he and Skinner had gone without a fight. He just took it as the status quo and was happy. But it now sounded very much like a fight was on the way. Jesus, he thought. Wasn't as if he'd grabbed the woman or invited her into his bed. And it wasn't as if he was in any state to fuck around, despite his carnal thoughts. He ground his teeth. But if Skinner wanted to be a bastard about it, then fine. 

He leaned forward and growled. "If you wanna say something to me, then just go ahead and say it. Don't do this 'you know what I mean', shit. It pisses me off." Skinner blinked at his tone.   
"So I thought she was hot. So what? If you're gonna go all bitchy on me every time I look twice at some pretty woman, then you an' I are gonna have a problem, big man." 

Skinner leaned forward, matching his posture. "I wouldn't say you looked twice. More like your tongue was hanging out." 

Doggett stared. "What?" 

"Come on. It was written all over your face. You might as well have put a sign around your neck." 

Doggett's hackles rose. He wasn't sure if he hated Skinner for throwing it in his face or himself for being so obvious. "What's your problem? Not as if I asked her to sit on my face." 

"All but." 

Doggett shook his head, past pissed off and into angry. "Fuck you, Skinner." 

They glared at one another over grease-stained plates, neither backing down. At last, Skinner sat back. "If that's how you feel, then here... Maybe you'd like to have this." He pulled Kathy's note out of his pocket and threw it over the table. It landed in a spot of grease. 

Doggett looked down at the spreading stain on the note. "What the hell?" 

"Maybe you'd like it if we popped in for that coffee, after all." 

Doggett leaned in further, hurting his arm on the edge of the table. It only made him more angry. "You think I wanna call in? Maybe ask her to blow me while I'm there? Or maybe you reckon I'm gonna want to go for a threesome with her old man?" He jerked his chin up. "Nah, three's more your style, isn't it?" 

"What's that supposed...." 

"Here y'go, folks..." The waitress appeared between them. "If you'd like to sign here?" Skinner's jaw bulged and twitched as he ground his teeth together. He scrawled his name on the receipt with bad grace. Doggett stood up, the meal he'd just eaten sitting heavily in his stomach. 

"You know... I'd better go sit in the car. God knows, I can't be trusted within a mile of a woman." The waitress looked at him. Skinner said nothing. Doggett reached down to the note and screwed it up. He threw the little ball of paper into Skinner's lap. "Here. You keep this." 

"Doggett...." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Walt. Guess I know what you think of me, now." 

"John..." 

He turned to the waitress, standing watching the exchange with her mouth slightly unhinged. "And no, I didn't have a Great fucking Dining Experience, thank you, Liz." He limped through the restaurant, stiff-backed and furious. 

Damn his aching leg, damn the headache that was threatening and damn Skinner for making him so fucking angry he'd sworn at the waitress. Jesus, what was he thinking? It wasn't her fault his lover was an asshole. If he wasn't so ashamed of using that word in front of her, he'd go back and apologize. He hobbled across the car park, looking for the car. He couldn't remember what color it was. Fuck it. He had his credit cards. He could get a cab, check into the nearest motel and fuck Skinner. Or rather, not fuck Skinner. It wasn't as if he had many clothes to lose. He could rent his own damned car and go looking for Michael. Or even buy a ticket and fly back to DC alone. His thoughts rattled around his head, bouncing off his new headache. Fuck Skinner! 

He glared across the parking lot. A phone. He needed a phone. He'd call a cab, check in somewhere and think about what to do next. He rubbed his head, accidentally poking his black eye. "Shit..." he muttered, wincing.   
There was a phone booth in the far corner of the parking lot. He gritted his teeth and started to stomp lopsidedly across the tarmac. He heard the sound of an approaching car and moved away from the middle of the roadway. "Doggett..." Skinner's voice from behind him. Resolutely ignoring the other man, Doggett slipped between two BMW's. He heard Skinner curse and drive on. Damn the man. He wasn't that easy. 

"Doggett!" The rental sped up as he crossed another line of cars. Stubborn, Doggett kept his eyes ahead. 

"John..." The tone was reconciliatory, not challenging, but Doggett was still furious. He crossed the last line of parked cars, knowing Skinner had no choice but to go all the way around the lot. Reaching the phone booth, he grabbed up the receiver and cradled it under his chin while trying to dig in his left hand pocket with his right hand. Hot, perspiring and frustrated as hell, he slammed the phone down. It was impossible. He couldn't get the change out. Staring at the dial pad, he realized he could just dial the operator. Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, he put the receiver to his ear. 

"John. I'm sorry." Skinner's voice directly behind him. He stiffened, but refused to turn around. "I'm an asshole. I don't know what came over me." Doggett punched the keys in silence. "Look. I don't know what else to say to you." 

Doggett had a whole list of things he could say, but he kept his mouth shut and listened to the clicks down the line. Behind him, Skinner sighed. "I'm sorry. I had no right to say those things to you. I just feel..." 

On the phone, the operator asked him what he wanted. He ignored her, more interested in what was being said behind him. Skinner breathed deeply. "Territorial, I guess is as good a word as any." Doggett surreptitiously put his finger on the cradle, keeping the phone under his chin. He listened to Skinner squirming, grinding out his words. 

"I see women take an interest in you and my back goes up. You're a good-looking man, John. Women are bound to look. And you have every right to look back at them. But you're right. If I behave like this each time it happens, then we do have a problem." Doggett stared at the business-cards stuck to the back of the booth. "I'm sorry. Forgive me?" 

Eyes stuck to the back of the booth on one of the cheap business cards, Doggett hesitated. He didn't care to be accused of something he didn't do, but on the other hand, he had been interested in Kathy in a distracted kind of way. But it wasn't as if he'd done anything about it. He had more respect for their relationship than Skinner obviously gave him credit for. And that hurt. 

"You're mad at me. I don't blame you. I behaved like an idiot." This time Skinner hesitated. "Look, if you don't want to carry on with this trip with me, then I understand. Just..." He sighed. "Let me take you to wherever you want to go. Please." Doggett slowly put the phone back. He turned around. He met Skinner's eyes without mercy. The anger still coursed through him, making his legs tremble. All his masculine pride was howling at him to just lay one on Skinner and it took a great deal of effort not to go with that feeling. He nodded, pushing down the urge to fight. 

"You're right. I am mad at you. Absolutely fuckin' furious," he growled. 

Skinner lifted his chin and clenched his jaw. "You have every right to be," he muttered. 

Doggett regarded the pulled back shoulders, almost a parade-ground stance and frowned, still angry but the grim posture tempered his first instinct to go all out for the other man. 

"Look at me," he instructed. Skinner's eyes didn't move from a point somewhere above Doggett's left shoulder. "Walter. Look at me." This time Skinner brought his eyes to focus on Doggett's. Doggett didn't feel the slightest desire to add to the misery on his face. This was already one very sorry son of a bitch. He stood and stared long enough to make Skinner squirm. He took a breath as the last of his urge to lash out bled away. 

"If I had a decent right hook, I'd lay you out right in this parkin' lot. I'm only gonna say this once, I never wanna have this conversation again. Clear?" Skinner nodded sharply.  
"Okay. Firstly, I agree with you sayin' I was interested in Kathy. I don't deny that. Hey... I've got eyes and she's a good lookin' woman. But I'm insulted that you'd think I'd do anything about that attraction when I'm with you. Jesus Christ, man... I'm sleeping with you! Don't that give you ANY clue as to what side I'm battin' for?" 

Skinner's gaze dropped to the ground. "Yes," he said quietly. 

Doggett rolled his eyes to the sky and let out a long breath. "Goddamnit, Walter. I love you. It's as simple as that." 

Skinner looked at him with uncertain hope on his face. "You do?" 

Rolling his eyes again, which was doing nothing to help his headache, Doggett sighed. "Yeah, fuckface. I do. But you pull that shit on me again and I'll both love you and punch your lights out. Y'hear?" 

Skinner smiled. "Deal." 

"Now open that car and get me to a fuckin' motel. I want a long, hot bath." He strode around the car, not waiting for Skinner to reply. 

chapter sixteen. 

The room Skinner rented for them was bigger than any of the others so far. And the bathroom spoke volumes about how sorry he was. The huge, spa-bath was a wonderful addendum on that silent apology. Doggett had spent nearly an hour soaking in it, his one arm hanging over the side, allowing Skinner to gently wash his body. Doggett made the most of it, closing his eyes and drowsing almost to the point of sleep. 

Now, lying on one of the queen sized beds in just his boxers, he picked at the packet of pecan cookies in front of him. Taking a last one and biting down, he turned to look at Skinner. He lay on the other bed, apparently absorbed in the newspaper. Doggett didn't think for a second he was reading, he hadn't turned a page in over five minutes. It was more like he was hiding behind it. He chewed the cookie thoughtfully, brushing the crumbs off his chest. Skinner lay in his tee shirt and shorts, his bare feet twitching occasionally as he pretended to read. The bigger man had great legs. Doggett's eyes wandered up to the juncture of his briefs. He thought about what lay inside them and how it made him feel. Despite their argument, he had wound down enough to feel the beginnings of an erection stirring in his own shorts. 

"Hey," he said holding up the packet. "You want one of these?" 

"No, thanks." 

"I can't manage them all." 

The top corner of the paper folded down and Skinner peered at him. "Then either throw them away or wrap the packet up for tomorrow." 

Doggett pushed the cookies away. "Walt?" 

"Uh huh." Skinner grunted, still hiding behind the business section of USA Today. 

"You know when couples fight, they usually have great make-up sex." 

The paper lowered. "Oh?" 

"Yeah." Doggett stretched carefully. He knew Skinner's eyes would be tracking up and down his bare chest. He glanced over. Sure enough, the dark eyes had wandered. He grinned. "Well I was kinda thinkin', how about we give it a go?" 

Skinner twitched an eyebrow. "You up for that?" 

"I think I could handle a little action, yeah." He rolled onto his side and regarded the man on the other bed. "As long as it's not too rough." 

"I meant..." Skinner pushed his glasses up his nose. "Well, are you, y'know - in the mood?" 

Doggett grinned. "Why don'tcha come over here and find out?" 

Skinner placed the paper on the bed and stood up. He prowled over to where Doggett lay. "You sure?" 

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Just get your ass over here." He pushed his hand down his boxers. "Or I might just have to take care of this myself." 

Skinner crawled up the bed. "Not on my shift," he growled. He swooped down and put his mouth over Doggett's. Working his tongue inside, he began to stroke at Doggett's, running his lips over the grinning mouth. 

Doggett chuffed a chuckle and allowed himself to be gently pushed back onto the bed. His arms went wide, opening up his chest to Skinner's roaming mouth. It worked its way down his neck and over the scrapes on his collar bones. He grunted in pleasure as his nipple was nipped and suckled. Eyes closing, he sighed, relishing the trail of tongue on his skin. Over the middle of his chest, onto the next nipple then down to tenderly kiss each of his ribs. He grunted louder as one of the bruises was pressed a little too hard. 

"Sorry," Skinner muttered, brushing the injury with his tongue. 

"S'okay." Doggett arched up slightly into the kiss. "Don't stop." 

"I won't." 

By the time Skinner reached down to tug his boxers off, Doggett was fully erect and throbbing. He lifted his hips slightly and lay back down, naked and spread open. "Now your turn," Doggett grinned. "Get 'em off." 

Skinner smiled and began to strip. Doggett watched with hooded eyes as the well-toned body was exposed. "Not bad, for an old guy," he drawled. 

"You think so?" 

Doggett see-sawed his hand. "It'll do. Now come here." 

Skinner knelt on the bed and walked up Doggett's body, his knees on either side of him. "How d'you want to do this?" he asked, dropping a couple of kisses on Doggett's belly. Thinking of various positions and rejecting them in consideration of his injuries, Doggett pursed his lips. "How 'bout you kneel over me," he said, gesturing with his hand. "You know, so we both get in on the action." 

"Yeah?" 

"Uh huh. Turn around." 

Obediently, Skinner turned his body round and moved about until his knees were either side of Doggett's head. 

"Like this?" 

"Yeah." Doggett grinned and reached up to tickle Skinner's balls. "Great view." 

The other man flinched. "Easy, Big Dog. Don't damage the merchandise." 

Doggett chuckled. "Wimp." 

"Absolutely." He lowered his head and abruptly took Doggett in his mouth, making him draw a sudden breath. 

"Jeez..."  
Skinner didn't stop to reply, just worked his mouth up and down the shaft. A moment later, his hand snaked between Doggett's legs to cup his balls. "Fuck..." 

Reaching up, Doggett took hold of Skinner's impressive erection and bent it down slightly to get it in his mouth. He was rewarded by the shudder that ran through the legs pressed against his head. They worked on each other for a few minutes, establishing a rhythm. Doggett knew this was one of Skinner's favorite positions. He enjoyed it too, especially when he was the one kneeling, but with the state of his legs, that was out of the question tonight. He reached up to run his hand up Skinner's thigh and over his tight ass. The reason why he like being on top was that it gave easy access to his asshole. And with that thought, he trailed his fingers along Skinner's crease, smiling a little at the clench it brought on. 

Down the bed, he felt his legs being nudged wider. His dick strained in anticipation, buried deep in Skinner's throat. He groaned, knowing the other man would feel the vibrations of the sound in his cock, and sure enough, his own dick was sucked harder in response. This was good. Slow, easy and relaxed. He used his tongue to tickle the end of Skinner's cock. Normally, they could do this for hours - just swallowing each other down, taking their time to bring each other off. But not tonight. Rubbing his finger against Skinner's asshole, he pushed a finger gently inside, sucking harder. The heavy balls bumping his forehead started to tighten as they drew up close. 

Down the bed, Skinner reciprocated, easing a wet finger inside Doggett, forcing his cock deep into his throat. The combination of knowing he was driving Skinner wild and the feelings his own body was experiencing was starting to push Doggett towards the edge. He could feel his orgasm building. He didn't fight it, just rode the wave of pleasure. He crooked his finger to seek the magic spot inside his lover. Bingo. Skinner's whole groin spasmed in pleasure. Doggett grinned, knowing his teeth were scraping the swollen flesh, knowing damn well the slight pain would add to the moment. Between his legs, another finger was roughly pushed inside him, the flare of discomfort telling him Skinner was right along with him on the timing. He wriggled his hips, getting used to the intrusion, his cock rubbing hard on Skinner's palette. 

Enough was enough. Doggett opened his throat, allowing Skinner to sink in almost to the hilt, and felt the corresponding action around his own cock. The dual sensation at both ends was enough. With a furious wriggle of his hips, thrusting and grinding, he came in a surge of ecstasy that forced him to suck on Skinner so hard that the other man had no choice but to follow him into orgasm. The pulse shuddered through him, all the way from the top of his head to his toes. He barely tasted what Skinner pumped into him, his lover's cock having been thrust right to the back of his throat at the point of orgasm. He relaxed as Skinner slowly pulled out, pulling his mouth off his rapidly shrinking dick. Collapsing at his side, Skinner groaned. 

"God..." 

Doggett chuckled. "Yeah." He closed his eyes and sighed. 

"You okay?" 

"Uh huh. I'm good." He cleared his throat, wincing slightly. Skinner was by no means a small man. He hoped he hadn't just sucked himself into a sore throat. 

Skinner sat up. "How're you feeling?" 

Doggett smirked. "Well fucked." 

A large hand stroked his chest. "I meant, how are you feeling injury-wise?" 

Taking a breath, Doggett considered. Disregarding the nice after glow of orgasm and the stretched throat, he wasn't surprised to discover his body wasn't too impressed with about the exertions. His leg was throbbing almost as much as his broken arm had been. 

"Well..." He tried to flex his leg. 

Skinner took one look at his face. "Pain killers?" 

Doggett nodded, wincing. "Yeah, please." He watched as Skinner slid off the bed and set about sorting out his medication. 

Skinner held out his hands. "Here y'go." 

Sipping gratefully at a glass of cool water, Doggett threw back two of the little white life savers. "Thanks." He handed the glass back and lay flat on the bed. "Jeez. I'm wiped." 

"So go to sleep." The bed dipped as Skinner sat down. 

"It's only..." He looked but his watch was on the table. He yawned. 

"Doesn't matter what time it is; if you're tired, then sleep." 

Doggett grunted. "Maybe." 

"Awkward." 

"Yeah..."  
He yawned again. Maybe if he got under the covers then he'd drop off. 

"Here..." Skinner peeled the quilt back and pushed the pillow straight. "Go on. Get in." 

Doggett smiled. "How d'you know what I was gonna do?" 

"I can read..." he trailed off. 

"My mind," Doggett finished as he slid under the sheet. 

"Well, I guess that I can't read it as well as I thought," Skinner said quietly. He pulled the sheet up and smoothed it down. 

"Don't beat yourself up over it." 

Skinner grunted. "I'm sorry about... you know." 

Doggett sighed. "Look. I've gotten over that. Forget it." 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Skinner regarded him. "You're not going to sulk about it?" 

"Jesus, man. No. Don't confuse me with your ex-wife." 

Skinner's brow wrinkled up. "Ouch." 

Doggett grinned. "Shut up and get into bed and keep me company." He scratched his ear. "You could always read that paper you were hiding behind, earlier." 

Skinner stood up and pulled a face at him. "You're so funny." 

"Yeah." He yawned. "Regular comedian. That's me." 

He watched Skinner move about the room, picking up discarded clothes and folding them. The few items of food they brought with them were tidied or trashed, soda and beer bottles stacked on the table. His eyelids were beginning to droop. Looked like he was going to sleep now, regardless of the time. He supposed he'd had a busy day. Through half-lidded eyes, it occurred to him that Skinner was still standing in the middle of the room, his back to the bed, holding his jeans. He stayed in that position so long that Doggett blinked and lifted his head from the pillow. "Whassup?" Skinner didn't move. He just stayed looking down at something in his hand. "Walt?" Still without replying, Skinner turned around. His face was pale, drained of all color. Doggett felt a flutter of panic. "What? What is it?" He watched Skinner's mouth open, but nothing came out. He just stood there, jaw unhinged, face pale. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he glared. "Jesus Christ, Skinner, you're startin' to freak me out. What the hell's wrong with you?" 

Very slowly, he stepped closer to the bed and without a word, dropped his jeans to the floor. The uncharacteristic slovenliness unnerved Doggett more than the look on his face. Wordlessly, Skinner held out his hand. "What is it?"   
Doggett looked down at what was being held out to him. With a jolt of anger, he realized it was the piece of paper from the restaurant. He scowled. "Why the hell d'you keep that?" He waved his hand. "Get rid of it. I don't want it." Irritated that Skinner had kept the note after the fuss it had caused, Doggett shook his head. "Fuck... I don't believe you." Still holding the note, Skinner sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at Doggett. "What?" Doggett demanded in a louder voice than was necessary. "I told you I don't want it." 

Skinner held his hand out. "Look at it," he said quietly. 

"I don't want to." Doggett tried to fold his arms over his chest, but the cast got in the way. He rested them on his belly instead. 

"John," Skinner leaned in. "Please. Look at it." 

Sighing dramatically, Doggett all but snatched it from the outstretched hand. "Oh, for fuck's sake, give it to me." He glanced down. "What am I looking at?" Skinner waited, silently. 

"Is this some kinda lame game, Walt? Coz I'm really fuckin' tired and not in the...." He trailed off as the words on the paper filtered through his annoyance into his memory. In neat, precise handwriting, it said: Mike and Kathy Huckabee, 21391 Crooked Mile Ct, Placerville. 

Doggett felt the room dissolve into a gray fuzz. His head echoed the dull thump of pain in his arm. 

"What the hell?" he whispered. He looked up at Skinner, feeling his eyeballs slithering in their sockets on some crazy time-lapse delay to the rest of his head. He swallowed. "Is this...?"  
The other man nodded. "Oh my god..." Doggett laid the note very carefully on the bedspread and stared at it as if afraid it might bite. The grease-spot made the paper transparent across the house number. 

"Are you okay?" Skinner asked, touching Doggett's hand. Doggett stared at the paper, his mouth working, fighting to form a sentence. 

He shook his head. "I don't believe it." He felt a hand slip under his and squeeze. 

"Hey... John?" 

Doggett held his breath. There was a lump wedged in the middle of his throat, blocking anything else he might have wanted to say and interfering with his breathing. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "That means Emily..." He stopped. 

Skinner nodded. "Your niece." 

Air expelled from Doggett's chest and he rested his head back, looking at the ceiling. "Jesus..." 

He lay there for quite a while, studying the cracks in the motel ceiling while he tried to pull his scattered thoughts together, Skinner just sat there, silently holding his hand. He thought about chance, co-incidence and fate, the definitions of all them tumbling around in his head, scrambled together with images of the bus wreck and bruises. Two minutes later.  
Two minutes later and they might have been turning up at a house that was mourning the loss of a child. His sorry ass would have been a damn poor substitute for a dead child. He expelled another lungful of air. Two minutes of time had changed his world. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that yet. 

"John?" His hand was squeezed. "Talk to me." 

Doggett tore his gaze from the ceiling and looked over. "She had the same eyes." 

"Who?" 

"Emily. Dark like yours. I remember thinking how pretty they were. She looks like her mother. The eyes, I mean. They have the same eyes." He knew he was rambling. 

"I noticed." Skinner smiled. "No family resemblance there, then." 

Doggett tried to smile back but couldn't quite make it. "Jesus, Walt. My own flesh and blood." He shook his head. 

"You saved her. She's safe, thanks to you." 

"But..." 

"No buts. She's gets to grow up because of her Uncle John. That's all that matters." Doggett looked at him sharply at the appellation. Skinner shrugged. "You are." 

"She doesn't know that." 

"No, but she might. One day." 

Doggett sighed. This was way too hard. He'd come here to maybe look across a street at the man who had been the baby his mother gave up, nothing more. Now things were complicated beyond belief. 

"Well?" 

Doggett looked at him. "Well, what?" 

"How do you feel about it?" 

"I dunno." 

"This doesn't make a difference. They're still your family." 

"It makes all the difference." 

"How?" 

Doggett sighed. "Well, for one thing, they're gonna think it real strange that the man who saved their daughter is suddenly a blood relative... And for another, I don't think I'm..." 

"You're not what?" 

Rubbing his eyes, Doggett hesitated. "I don't think I'm ready for it." 

"Why on earth not? You already met 2 thirds of the family. And you liked them..." Doggett looked at Skinner, amused to see a smile drifting across his face. "So how hard can meeting Michael be?" 

Doggett made a farting noise with his mouth. "Please." 

"What?" 

"You're kiddin', right?" 

Skinner shrugged. "You were all set for saying 'hi' before all this. Nothing's changed, except you've got a head start in the popularity stakes." 

Doggett couldn't help laughing at that. "Jeez, Walt. You're one sick bastard." 

"Whatever." 

He looked down at the paper again. "I suppose..." 

"Yeah?" 

"Well. I suppose I could maybe call them on the phone." 

"John..." Skinner tugged on his hand until he looked up. "No. This is not something you can do over the phone." 

"No?" 

Skinner shook his head. "Trust me." 

Doggett wasn't so sure about that. He glanced down at the address. It made the bruise over his eye throb. He slipped his hand from beneath Skinner's, reached up and probed it absently. "I don't know what to do, Walt." The admission wasn't as humiliating as he thought it would be. 

Skinner pulled his hand away from the bruise. "Look. Let's get some sleep. Maybe you'll know what you want to do, in the morning. Things always seem better after a good night's sleep." 

Doggett glanced over, eyebrow raised. 

"Don't look at me like that." 

"You sound like a Jewish grandmother." 

"I do not." 

Doggett snorted. "You do." 

"And you'd know what one of those sounds like, I suppose?" He slipped under the covers and turned out the light. 

"I might," Doggett grinned in the dark. 

"Yeah?" 

Doggett laughed softly as Walt's body pressed up against his. "Night, Grandma." 

"Fuck off," Skinner muttered into his neck. 

chapter seventeen. 

Doggett's eyes tracked the fields and farms as they rolled by. Gazing out of the passenger window without really seeing anything, he tried to occupy his mind by counting the animals. Four points for a horse, two for a cow. He frowned, as they passed a specialty breeding farm. How many points for a fucking llama, he wondered? Several of the disdainful creatures stared right back at him through the cloud of dust the car kicked up. He felt as morose as they looked. 

"You okay?" 

He grunted a reply, not bothering to speak. Skinner already knew how he was feeling. They had discussed options over their morning showers, argued about what to do in Denny's and finally thrashed out a plan as they sped along Route 50. They were going to drop by at the Huckabee place. The one thing that Doggett insisted on, was not phoning ahead to let anyone know they were coming. It had been a hard-argued point, but one Skinner eventually conceded. Doggett suspected the other man knew damned well that it was because Doggett secretly hoped no one would be home when they called. 

"Did the waitress say it was the third or the fourth turning after the water tower?" 

Doggett glanced down at the cocktail napkin instructions in his hand. "Third." 

"Here we go..." Skinner indicated and made the turn smoothly. 

Doggett's belly slithered around the bend despite the careful maneuver. He sat grimly silent as the car climbed the winding hill through the old ranch land. Skinner had been playing that damned Reba CD all the way from the diner, but he was too distracted to switch it over. He just stared at the signs that marked the ends of the drives along the road. Big signs, some with hand painted numbers, others brand new and store-bought. He wondered what sort of people lived at the end of each drive. He didn't think he could live so far away from civilization. Then he thought of his parents' place, another home that was a truck drive from anywhere. He had lived there for years, quite happy to jump behind the wheel to go to town. Maybe it was just a matter of conditioning and familiarity. He'd been in the city too long, he guessed. He became aware that Skinner was slowing the car. 

"21391." He nodded towards the sign at the side of the road. "That's the one." 

Doggett felt a squirt of adrenaline. "Uh huh." 

Without waiting for him to say anything more, Skinner turned the wheel and began the slow descent down the drive. It was a sharp incline, the tarmac twisting like a whip of liquorice through the scrub. A green hosepipe snaked between small bushes, leaking water into the roots. Fire plants and yucca battled for survival in the Sierra scrub and heat. 

As they crawled down the slope, a family of ducks waddled across the drive, the mamma duck giving them a haughty look as three babies waddled after her in a funny little two-step of downy bottoms. Doggett smiled as Skinner waited patiently for the single parent to get her brood to safety. 

"Hurry up, Jemima," he muttered, making Doggett snort. 

"Never figured you for a Beatrix Potter fan." Skinner just gave him a look and slipped off the brake to slide the car down the drive. The sweep of front driveway revealed two cars in front of a wooden, two story house, its wrap around porch set one level up from the ground. Toys and tools littered the space under the porch, scattered carelessly among boots, lengths of wood and sacks of various sizes. Skinner pulled up next to a white SUV with all the windows down. A small Toyota sat on the other side. He killed the engine and turned slightly. "You still okay about this?" 

"I guess." He refused to look over at Skinner. 

"We have time to back out." 

Staring at the small pond between the trees the other side of the driveway, Doggett shook his head. "No. I can do this." 

Satisfied, Skinner took the keys from the ignition. "You think anyone's home?" 

"Dunno. Maybe." Doggett inclined his head towards the open car. "Guess it must be okay to leave your windows open around these parts." 

"Yeah." Skinner unbuckled his seat belt. "You coming, then?" 

Sighing, Doggett unfastened himself. He let the belt run through his fingers as he stared at the ducks that were paddling across the water. Mamma and three little ones. It seemed fitting, somehow. There were three babies in his family, too. 

"I'm good," he said, more to himself as he opened the door. The heat of the day hit him immediately. He was glad he'd put on a light cotton shirt and chinos. It was hot enough with the sling around his neck. How the hell had the temperature jumped so much? He didn't want to think what it would be like here in the height of summer. He walked around the car to stand with Skinner. "Which way d'you think we should go?" He looked at the steps to the front door and an open door under the porch. 

"Front," Skinner said firmly. "We're paying a visit." He held his had out to indicate Doggett go first. 

"I guess." 

Picking his way between potted plants, toys and sneakers scattered up the stairs, he made his way up the wooden steps, his belly tightening with each rising step. He could do this, he kept telling himself. Standing in front of the glass paneled front door, he raised his hand to knock and hesitated. Skinner placed a warm hand on his back, letting him know he was there. Doggett clenched his teeth together and knocked hard, three times, unconsciously doing his 'official business' knock. 

There was a muffled crash followed by a machine-gunned series of barks from inside the house. Then a woman's voice called out: "Just a second!" Doggett and Skinner exchanged a glance. The dog barked a few more times before a slamming door cut it off mid-yelp. The front door swung open.  
Kathy stood in cut-off jeans, sleeveless top and sneakers, her hand covered in flour, her hair mussed. He mouth dropped open. 

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed. "You came!" 

Doggett swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on the woman's face and not allow them to wander down to see if she was wearing a bra. He didn't speak. 

Behind him, Skinner cleared his throat. "We, um... we thought we'd take you up on that coffee invitation. We would have called ahead, but it was a last minute decision. If it's at all inconvenient..." 

"Oh, good gracious, no!" Kathy pushed her hair behind her ear leaving a smudge of flour on her cheek. "It's fine. I'm so glad you came!" She stood back and waved. "Come in, come in, please." 

Doggett stood still long enough to get a poke in the back, then smiled and stepped inside the cool hallway. "Thank you, ma'am." 

Kathy smiled broadly. "Call me Kathy, please. You make me feel old, calling me that." 

Doggett inclined his head. "Okay. Kathy." 

"Come in... come in..." She ushered them into the hallway. "We don't use the front door too much - I thought you might be one of those annoying sales people, you know..." 

Doggett nodded as she led them through the interior of the house. He looked left and right at the pictures on the walls, the decorations. He was looking for a family portrait, hoping to get a heads-up on Michael. He wondered if he'd get a glimpse of his brother before meeting him face-to-face. That was if he was even at home. There was a framed collection of motorbike insignias on one wall, he noted and a cross-stitch picture on the other. Was Michael into bikes? Doggett hoped so. Otherwise he was looking at long conversations about yarn. 

"I hate it when you get callers tryin' to sell you stuff," Kathy rattled on. "Storm shutters, aluminum siding, encyclopedias, the lot. They're such a pain, won't take no for an answer, interrupting what I'm doing, all the time...' She trailed off, her hand to her mouth. Her blush showed up starkly against the flour on her cheek. "Not that I mean you're interrupting, of course! I'm just so...." She laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I'm thrilled that you dropped by. I really am." 

Doggett smiled back, a big, all-the-teeth grin. He couldn't help himself, despite knowing his attraction for her was now firmly in the 'no-go' area of family. "I'm real sorry; we should have called first. It's just that...." 

"Oh, no! That's perfectly okay!" She reached out to touch his arm briefly, both startling and pleasing him at the same time. "I'm so glad you decided to drop by." 

Doggett glanced down at her hand. It felt cool to the touch. He noticed her fingernails were clipped short, functional. She left a funny smear of flour on his forearm. He lifted his arm slightly, wondering how he was going to wipe it off. 

"I hope we're not putting you to any trouble," Skinner rumbled from over Doggett's shoulder. 

"Not at all. I was just cleaning up from baking. I was thinking about brewing some coffee for Mike, anyway." She looked down at Doggett's arm and laughed. "Oops! Silly me." Snatching a dishtowel from the back pocket of her jeans, she wiped the mess off his skin. "There. All clean." 

"Thank you." Doggett kept his eyes down. He didn't want her to read his reaction to her words or actions in his eyes. 

"Come through." She waved forwards. "Make yourselves at home." 

Doggett led the way into the large kitchen. It was filled with sunshine from the windows that filled one wall. Homey clutter fought for space amongst plant pots and books on every available surface. It smelled of warm cinnamon and baking; a wonderful comforting smell that took Doggett right back to his childhood. The kitchen was a happy mess, a jumble of family bits and pieces that spilled put of cupboards and boxes. In one corner a collection of boots vied for floor space with what looked like various sporting trophies. 

"Take a seat, please." Kathy waved over at the table. "I've just got to rescue the cookies." 

Doggett walked over to the pine dining table and took hold of a tall chair, pulling it out. "Hey, hello there," he said. A tabby cat sat up, blinking accusingly at him. 

"Oh, that's just Button," Kathy explained, shooing the cat off the chair and brushing imaginary hairs. "He takes his naps there. Here, it's okay now." 

"I wouldn't wanna upset the natives," Doggett said, warily lowering himself into the chair as the cat coiled itself around his legs. What he meant was, he didn't want to get clawed. He and cats had a history of animosity. 

"Oh, he'll be fine. He just wants to sniff you some." 

Doggett glanced over at Skinner's face. Sure enough, the grin was there. He pulled a face at the other man. 

"Do you both drink coffee?" Kathy asked from down by the oven. 

"Yes ma'..." Doggett held up his hand. "I mean, Kathy." 

"Black for me," Skinner offered. "John's the wimp. He takes cream and sugar." 

Kathy laughed at the sink as she washed her hands. "I like mine black, too. But Mike takes his like John, light and sweet." 

The two men looked at one another, Doggett's eyes dropping to the table first. The reality of what they had come here for hit him in the guts with that one innocent comment. He sat with the cat rubbing up against his leg, his finger fiddling with a corner of a piece of paper on the table, turning over what on earth he was going to say in his mind. The water ran in the sink covering the silence. Kathy puttered about, making small talk as she filled the coffee machine and dug around on tip-toe in a cupboard for grounds. 

"I'll just pop this on, then I'll go get Mike. He's down in the back garden, trying to get the irrigation system set up for the vegetables. I've been nagging him for months to sort it out, but you know what you men are like; you leave it till the last minute to get a job done." 

She laughed fondly as she spoke, her tone and humor belying any annoyance in her words. She threw the dishcloth over towards a pile of what looked like washing in a basket. It slithered off the top of the heap. Laughing, she bent down to retrieve it. 

Doggett allowed his eyes the briefest of glances down her body, over her ass and nicely-shaped legs before glancing over at his lover. He raised his eyebrows defiantly. Skinner smiled slightly, a tolerant look in his eyes. He shrugged and nodded as if to agree with Doggett's assessment. Doggett smiled, shaking his head. The view was good, but everything was different now. Skinner knew he understood that. 

"Never was any good at basketball," she said. "I was more of a library-jock." 

"Not a cheerleader, then?" Doggett asked her, smiling. 

She flapped her hand. "Get out of here! I wasn't gonna leap about all over the place so's all the boys could stare at my panties!" 

Doggett felt a warmth spread over his body at the mention of the word and the unbidden visual. On the seat opposite, Skinner laughed softly. 

A crash of something upstairs made all three look at the ceiling. Kathy sighed and moved into the doorway. 

"Emily Rose!" she hollered up the stairs. "What on earth are you doing?" 

There was a pause, then a small voice shouted down: "Nothing, mama." 

Kathy looked back at them and rolled her eyes. "Well, just you quit doing 'nothing' and get on down here. We have visitors." 

"Is it Aunt Marie?" 

"No." 

"Is it Becky?" 

Kathy sighed. "No. Look, why don't you come down and see for yourself?" 

There was a long pause. "Not coming down if it's stinky Josie." 

"Emily! That's not very nice." 

There was another loud thump on the floor. "I'm not. She smells." 

Doggett pressed his lips together to trap a laugh. Opposite, Skinner smiled and raised his brows. 

"Just come down, honey." 

"It's not Josie?" 

"No." 

"Promise?" 

Kathy folded her arms. "Emily! This is starting to get annoying!" 

"Gimme a clue." 

"Now, Emily!" 

"Just a little clue." 

Kathy sighed, shaking her head. "Will you come down if I say the letter J?" 

This time there was a longer pause, then a crash that made both men wince and Doggett wonder if the child had been dismantling a supporting wall. Then the thump of footsteps across the floor that proceeded to clatter down the stairs in an uneven tattoo. Kathy stepped back from the doorway just in time to prevent being trampled as Emily barreled into the kitchen. 

chapter eighteen. 

"John Jay!" 

Emily yelled, launching herself towards the table. Doggett just had time to brace himself and hold his arm out of harm's way before she crash-landed in his lap. The breath he had been holding whistled out between his clenched teeth as her knees landed somewhere soft. In the dim recess of his mind, a small part of him was perversely grateful that his dick took the brunt of the landing and she hadn't landed on his bad leg. 

"I knew you'd come!" she screamed, delightedly, hanging from his neck like a gibbon, swinging side to side. "I told mama and daddy you would, but they said you'd be gone doing other stuff, but I said you'd come see me an' I was right an' they was wrong!" Doggett nodded grimly, glad that the issue of his fathering any more children was a moot point. His dick throbbed painfully. 

"Emily!" Kathy swooped down and grabbed the child under the arms, plucking her from Doggett's lap. "How many times must daddy and I tell you?" She placed the girl none too gently on the edge of the table. "You mustn't jump on people's laps like that! Especially men. They hurt easily." 

She glanced at Doggett. "I'm really sorry about that." She blushed slightly. "Are you okay?" 

Doggett pursed his lips and nodded, fighting the urge to rub his crotch. "Yeah... I'm okay." He looked at Emily, sitting on the table, her face crestfallen. It was apparent she was bewildered and upset with no idea why what she'd done was so bad. He put a smile on his face. "No harm done, okay?" 

Kathy flicked a glance at his lap. "You sure?" 

The glance embarrassed Doggett more than he cared to admit. He wondered what kind of mental picture she was getting. Wondered what other pictures were going through her mind about him and Skinner. He wasn't sure how he felt about that and that feeling in itself gave him a good helping of guilt. 

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I'm fine. 

She nodded, smiling in an embarrassed kind of way. "Okay, then." 

Desperate to change the subject. Doggett pointed at Emily's leg. "You seem to be walkin' just fine on that foot of yours. It's all better then?" 

"Sure." She wiggled it up and down. "The doctor said it was only trained a little." Taking hold of the table-edge, Emily slithered off. "See, I can walk on it and everything." She cat walked across the kitchen, pirouetting on the turn. 

Doggett grinned. "Very elegant. You could be a model." 

"Nope. I'm gonna be a vet. Or a doctor. Or a spaceman." She shoved her hair behind her ears the way her mother had. "Or I might run away to the circus." 

"I see." Doggett nodded. "That sounds great." 

"Or I could be a policeman like you and Walter." 

"I don't think John and Walter are regular policemen, honey." Kathy reached up into a cupboard and brought down several mugs. "They do other stuff." 

Doggett glanced over at Skinner, an eyebrow raised. He wondered which if any of the X-Files cases were suitable for a 6 year old's consumption. 

"You mean you don't catch bad people?" 

"Yeah, I guess we do..." Doggett nodded slowly. "Wouldn't you say, Walt?" 

Skinner leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Yes. We do get the bad guys and lock them away. But the FBI has to do lots of other boring stuff, too." 

Emily mirrored his pose on the edge of the table. "Can I be in the FBI?" 

Skinner smiled. "You sure can. We have lots of lady agents now." Actually, John works with a very nice lady called Dana." 

Emily turned to him. "Is she your girlfriend?" 

Doggett licked his bottom lip, deliberately not looking over at Skinner. He cleared his throat. "Um... No, she's not." 

"My friend up the road, Tony - his dad has a girlfriend at work. He's in the fire department. Tony's in the 9th grade, he's almost grown up like you. Have you got a girlfriend?" 

Doggett's insides curled at the machine-gun speech from the little girl. He could feel his face starting to color up. The thought of trying to explain his sexuality to her just about turned him inside out. "Um... no, I don't." He closed his mouth against anything else that might creep out. 

"Then can I be your girlfriend?" 

Doggett's mouth dropped open slightly. "Um..." he started to say. 

"Emily..." Kathy tapped on the kitchen counter to get the girl's attention. "Would you like to hand these cookies around?" She held a plate out. "I'm busy with the coffee." 

Emily clapped her hands and skipped over to her mother. "Yay! Are they the mallow ones?" 

"Uh huh. Offer them to John and Walter." 

Carrying the plate with infinite care, she made her way over to them. Over her head, Kathy smiled and winked at Doggett, mouthing the word, 'sorry'. He tried not to laugh, hiding his smile behind his hand. Emily stood in front of him. 

"Would you like one of these, John Jay? They're good. Mama makes the best stuff. The brown ones have chocolate and the white ones are peanut." She pulled the plate away as he reached out. "You're not allergic, are you? Philip Jordan is allergic to nuts. They make him real sick." 

Doggett shook his head. "No. I'm fine." His hand hovered over the plate. "May I have one of each kind?" 

"You may," she replied solemnly, watching as he selected two. 

Across the table, Skinner grunted. "You might want to take the plate away from him once he's chosen, Emily. He has a disgusting weakness for cookies." 

Emily looked at Skinner then back at Doggett. She pulled the plate back a little. "Really?" 

"Oh, yes." Skinner smiled. "He ate almost a whole box of pecan cookies last night." He shook his head sadly. "And he didn't even offer me one." 

"Oh..." Emily gave Doggett a reproachful look. "That wasn't very nice, John Jay. Walter is your best friend; you should share." 

Doggett tried to look as indignant as he could with his mouth full of cookie. He chewed quickly and swallowed as Emily held the cookies out to Skinner. "I did offer!" He pointed the other cookie across the table. "He's just teasin' you." 

Skinner smirked around a mouthful.  
Emily looked from one to the other. "Are you?" she asked Skinner. 

He shrugged, licking crumbs from his lips. "Maybe I exaggerated a little. Maybe he offered me the last one." 

Emily's mouth dropped. "He ate them all but one?" She stared at Doggett, aghast. "That's really piggy." 

Skinner laughed and tapped the table. "That's why he wears the Piglet shirts. It's a warning." 

As Doggett opened his mouth to defend himself, Button took it into its head to make it clear it wasn't impressed with Doggett sitting in its chair. With a leap worthy of Magic Johnson, it leaped from the corner of the room to the middle of Doggett's lap, landing squarely on his crotch. Giving the human just enough time to get over the shock of a fat calico landing on him, the cat then proceeded to knead the area with its claws. 

"Shhhhhhhiiiii.....!" Doggett started to say, eyes flying open wider than they'd been all week. He dropped his cookie, disregarded his fractured arm and grabbed the cat with both hands, pulling it up off his lap, which only served to make the cat curl its claws over and pull up little triangles of flesh along with the chinos. 

"That's a bad word," Emily announced, watching solemnly as he hovered his ass over the chair, still pulling at the cat. Kathy ran over and tried to disengage Button's claws, apologizing profusely, trying not to touch Doggett's groin. Doggett danced about, hands full of hissing cat, biting his lip, trying not to swear or allow Kathy's hands anywhere intimate. 

"Oh... Jeez!!" He pulled hard on the wriggling cat, all good sense and reason disappearing as the tears of pain flooded his eyes. The cat in return, clung on for grim death, hissing angrily. "Get it off!! Get it offa me!!" The creature seemed to stretch in his hands like furry elastic, talons embedded deeply in his thighs. Through the blanket of excruciating pain, he could hear Kathy yelling at the cat, Emily yelling at her mother for yelling at the cat, and buried somewhere in amongst all the shouting, he could hear Skinner's distinctive baritone laughter. 

"Stand still!" Kathy yelled at him, holding his forearms. "Stand still a second!" 

Easier said than done, Doggett groaned and tried to get himself to stop moving. His body jerked and spasmed in time with the pulse of blood roaring through his veins to settle in his lap. The needle-like cat claws stung bitterly. "Keep still so I can pull his claws out!" 

He shook his head wildly. "It hurts!" 

Shaking her head, Kathy held his arms firmly. "You have to hold still so I can get him off!" 

Biting down on his lip. Doggett willed himself to hold still. The cat maintained its bid for freedom in his hands, wriggling and twisting, pulling his skin this way and that. Kathy's head bent down in front of him, giving him a bird's-eye view down the front of her shirt, answering the 'bra-no-bra' question without a shadow of doubt. He screwed his eyes up to stop himself from staring, trading reality for a wild mental image of her going down on him. The pain flared as she pulled at the cat, shoving carnal thoughts right away. He yelped loudly as the cat's feet were unhooked from his flesh. It shot from his grip to hare across the kitchen, taking a vindictive swipe at his hand on the way. Jumping up to the top of the fridge, it glared down at him. "Oh, God..." He closed his eyes in relief and sagged into the chair. 

He shoved the back of his hand in his mouth, sucking the scratch. Blood spread over his tongue. Grimacing, he pulled his hand out and stared at the red line. "Oh, man..." 

"I am so sorry!" Kathy stood in front of him. "I don't know what to say..." 

Across the table, he could hear Skinner snickering quietly. "It's fine. I'm okay," he lied. He didn't want to look down at his lap to verify that statement, the claw-snags in his skin felt like they were on fire. Lord only knows what damage that animal had wrecked on his soft parts. 

"He never does that," Kathy was saying. "I don't know what got into him." 

"Bad cat," Emily scolded, wagging her finger. "Mustn't jump up on people." 

Doggett sighed and rubbed the scratch with a finger. "It's okay," he said again, trying to get a reassuring smile on his face. There was a loud chuff of laughter from across the table, and Doggett turned to glare at his lover. "What's so funny?" 

"I guess it must run in the family," Skinner said. "This uncontrollable need to leap into your lap." 

Doggett could see Kathy hiding her smile behind her hand. He gave Skinner a look from narrowed eyes. "Thanks," he said. "You're a real help." Skinner shrugged, grinning. 

"Let me take a look at that." Kathy held out her hand. Doggett scowled at Skinner one last time and gave her his hand. She turned it over in her palm and studied the scratch. "Not too bad, but I'm going to put something on it for you. Stop it getting infected." 

"There's no need..." he began to say. 

"There's every need. Do you have any idea where cats' feet get to?" Doggett pulled a face. "Exactly. So stay put." She placed his hand on the table and moved to dig around in a cupboard. Doggett stared at the scratch, watching tiny beads of blood welling up. His right hand had been just about the last place on his body that wasn't hurt or battered in some way. Typical. Emily's head bumped his gently as she bent to look closely. She looked up at him. 

"That hurts," she told him with authority. 

"It sure does," Doggett muttered. 

"Does your arm still hurt?" She touched the cast. 

"A little. Not as much as it did." 

"Uh huh." Her eyes tracked thoughtfully over his face, cataloging the scrapes and bruises. She stared at his black eye. "That's not so bad, today," she said, reaching out a finger. 

Doggett leaned back. He wasn't about to let her poke him. "Yeah. And yours is lookin' better, too." 

She grinned, rubbing the discoloration under her eye. "Daddy says I look like a boxer. He says that I was so brave I can have a new Barbie bag and maybe a Barbie car for my collection." She leaned back in and whispered. "But Daddy wasn't very brave. I saw him crying." She held her finger to her lips. "You can't tell anyone that, though. It's a secret." 

Doggett nodded solemnly. "I won't tell." 

Kathy tapped her daughter on the head with a roll of cotton. "Beep-beep, Trouble. Let me through." 

Emily took a half step to one side, and propped her elbows on the table to watch. Kathy cleared her throat and Emily looked up. "You're still in the way, madam. Give me room to work." 

"Mama, if I'm going to be a vet, I need to watch stuff like this." 

Doggett poked her on the end of her nose. "Hey! You callin' me an animal?" Emily giggled and stepped back out of reach. 

"Shoo!" Kathy waved the cotton at her. "Out! Go find your father. Tell him we have visitors." 

Slipping between her mother and the table, Emily slithered past Doggett. "He's in the garden. I know a quick way - through the bushes." 

"Go on the path, young lady. Those bushes are newly planted. Give them at least a fighting chance to grow before you trample all over them." Emily opened her mouth to argue, but the rolled up cotton waved under her nose. "Take the path. Now shoo!" 

The child banged out of the back door in a flurry of pink; with a backward grin at Doggett that told him exactly which route she was going to take. Kathy rolled her eyes. "Sorry about that. She's a handful at the best of times. When she's excited, she's a nightmare on wheels." 

Doggett smiled. "Nah. It's okay. I think she's great." 

Kathy shrugged. "In short doses and with medication. But I have to say she's taken to you, no doubt about it. You must be good with kids." Realizing what she said, she bit her lip. "Sorry... I didn't think." 

Doggett shook his head. "Don't be. It's okay. Really." And it was. The absence of pain was strange, but not unpleasant. 

Kathy smiled and nodded, then squatted down to study his hand. "Okay. Now then, let's see about this little thing." She ripped a piece of cotton, splashed disinfectant on it and placed it over the scratch. Doggett sucked air through his teeth.   
Two pairs of amused eyes looked at him. "You okay?" Kathy asked, trying to hide a smile. Doggett nodded, silent.  
She turned to Skinner. "What do you think? Is he going to cry?" 

Skinner grunted. "Uh huh. Probably. He's the biggest baby when it comes to stuff like that. Shoot him and he doesn't murmur. Give him a paper-cut and he whines and snivels for hours." 

"Really?" 

"Oh, God, yes. He cut his finger a while back - I thought he was going to faint clean away." Kathy covered her mouth with her other hand. 

Doggett glared at his lover. "You know, there's a million things I could say about you, Skinner, but I ain't shallow." 

"You think?" 

Doggett raised his eyebrows. "You want me to mention the 'Tidy' issues?" 

Skinner looked unbelievably innocent. "What issues?" 

"You gotta be kiddin' me." 

"What?" 

"You do know you possess the most anally tidy office in the whole of the FBI?" Doggett snorted. "Or probably the world." 

"I do not." 

Kathy wiped the cotton over the scratch. "You two work together then?" 

"He's my boss," Doggett muttered, peering down at what she was doing. 

"Ah." She grinned at him. "Better not piss him off, then." 

Doggett grunted. The sting of the disinfectant was starting to fade. "Like I'm worried about that." 

"He could fire you." 

Doggett gave a sharp laugh. "He wouldn't dare. He knows he'd be sleeping on the couch..." He trailed off, realizing what he'd just said. Kathy dabbed the back of his hand a couple of times then sat back on her heels, looking him straight in the eye. 

"May I ask you something?" she said quietly. Doggett nodded, knowing what was coming next. "Are you two..." She glanced over at Skinner then back again "Together?" 

For a wild moment, Doggett toyed with the idea of asking her what she meant, laughing and making a joke of it. But it was only the briefest of thoughts. 

"I guess you could say that." He stared into dark eyes. "Is it a problem for you?" He deliberately kept his voice absolutely neutral, not giving away the slightest indication of the rising panic in his belly. If she freaked out about him being gay, then any relationship with his brother was in jeopardy. He would not trade his life with Skinner for anyone, not even a brother. The thought made him slightly giddy. He held his breath, waiting for her reply, counting his thumping heartbeats in the silence. 

She smiled. "Not at all. Just didn't want to make any assumptions or any embarrassing remarks." 

Doggett's breath slowly hissed out from between his teeth. He smiled back. "Thank you." 

She patted his hand. "Don't be silly, It's your personal business, no one else's." 

Doggett shrugged, not wanting to get into a big discussion on the realities of homophobia in middle America. "I guess so, but thank you anyway. For not... You know..." He twisted his mouth into a rueful grimace. "For not freakin' out." 

Kathy laughed. "Hello? This is the 21st century, John. I watch Will and Grace." 

Doggett laughed. "Yeah?" 

"Of course!" 

Skinner held up his hand, his face a study in surprise. "I've seen that one." 

Doggett jerked his thumb. "He doesn't watch a lot of TV." 

Skinner raised an eyebrow and pointed at Doggett. "I'm Will. He's Jack." 

Kathy laughed at the look on Doggett' s face. She stood up, holding her hands out in front of her. "Hey... I don't want to get in the middle of anything, here, guys. I'm going to get the coffee, okay?" 

Doggett winked. "You're safe. We already had our semiannual fight." 

"Yeah?" Kathy brought a tray over to the table. Mugs steamed with coffee. She grinned. "I don't think I'll ask." 

"Better not," Doggett agreed. He smiled over at Skinner who just looked at him with an indulgent expression. 

He reached down and picked up the stray cookie from under his chair and looked at it. There wasn't any dirt that he could see. He opened his mouth to dispose of it. "Ah-ah." Kathy reached over and whipped it out of his hand. She tossed the cookie in the trash. "Have a clean one." She handed him another cookie. 

"That one was fine," he argued, peering over the table. 

"Please. Your mother would have a fit if she saw you doing that." 

There were a lot of things he could have told her about his mother, but considering the circumstances, he thought he'd keep quiet. He took the offering from her. "Thank you." He ate it in silence while she dealt with the coffee pot. 

There was the sound of running from out on the wrap around porch and Emily flung the door open. "John Jay! I ran all the way from the garden, I didn't hurt any of the bushes!" She skipped over to the table and grabbed a cookie. With her free hand, she pointed behind her. "This is my daddy. His name is Mike." 

chapter nineteen. 

Doggett felt a squirt of cold rush across his kidneys. This was it. This was the moment he'd been looking forward to with dread anticipation. He glanced at the doorway, watching as one heavy work boot then another cart-wheeled across the porch. 

"Take them off properly, Michael!" Kathy called. "I've told him a million times..." She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Hopeless creature." 

A shadow fell across the step and Doggett looked away, his heart pounding. There was an excited fluttering in his chest. His mouth was very dry. He wanted to shout 'stop' and pause everything. All of a sudden it was too much, the anticipation was sharper than Button's claws. He wasn't ready. He hadn't properly prepared himself for this; he didn't feel in control, not in the least bit confident. 

"Good morning, Mr. Huckabee." 

Doggett heard Skinner's voice, registered the sound of his chair being scraped back as his lover stood up. "Walter Skinner." In Doggett's mind he could see the hand outstretched to another man, the slight smile, the unconscious straightening of a broad back. 

"Hey, Walt. Call me Mike." 

The voice.   
Doggett felt his guts flop over. The sound was deep and rough. The accent different, but the pitch was the same. He swallowed, excitement on an equal par with fear. Slowly he raised his eyes, over the plate, across the table and up Skinner's back, listening to his brother's voice. 

"Thank you, thank you so much for what you did. I don't know how to tell you how grateful we are." 

"It's not a problem, we're just glad we were able to help." 

Doggett watched Skinner's arm moving, unable to see anything around the wide shoulders. He listened to the exchange, fascinated. His mind absorbed the sound of his brother's voice, cataloging it, comparing it to his own. It was like listening to himself putting on a different accent. 

Skinner took his hand back and turned slightly. "I can't take the credit for getting Emily out safely. That's was all John's doing." 

Michael stepped to the side and Doggett stood up, butterflies playing havoc with his stomach. He swallowed. "Hi." He held his hand out, finally forcing himself to look the other man in the face. 

In his stockinged feet, Michael Huckabee stood a shade taller than he did. As the other man approached around the table, Doggett had time to absorb the old jeans and tee-shirt, and the fact that a pair of gray eyes were staring back at him. They weren't bright blue like he had imagined they would be. This angular face was a slightly altered version of his own but he couldn't say just what it was that was different. Maybe the bone structure was just a little 'off'. That, and the hair was a shade darker than his own. It was also very much shorter. Shaved into an almost military buzz-cut, just an inch or so longer on top. Just like Doggett remembered his own from the Marines. The thought made him smile and he was intrigued to see an answering grin spread over Mike's face. A familiar, lop-sided grin. 

"Hey, man..." Michael took hold of his hand and shook it, his eyes never leaving Doggett's. "What you did..." 

Doggett spoke slowly, still fascinated by that voice. "S'okay." 

"No, it's not okay. It's..." Michael shook his head. 

Doggett didn't know what to say. If someone had been able to save Luke, words would have failed him, too. He was shocked but not entirely surprised to see the gray eyes misting up. He squeezed the hand gripped tightly in his. "Hey... Forget it." Michael grimaced, shook his head then pulled Doggett into a tight hug. 

Doggett's eyes widened. His whole body went on alert, hypersensitive to everything. The heat of the arm around his shoulder burned through his shirt and the feel of the cheek against his, shocked him beyond words. His brother smelled of sunshine and warm skin, just as if he stepped inside from the yard back home. 

"Thank you," Michael whispered in his ear, giving Doggett goosebumps. 

An onslaught of 'what if's' and 'might have beens' slammed into his mind, an avalanche of lost opportunities over nearly 40 years. He sucked in a sharp breath at the thought of what he had never had the chance to know. Michael pulled away immediately. "Hey, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" 

Doggett shook his head. "No... No." He smiled, trying to calm his heart rate. "Really. It's okay." 

The hug had shocked him to the core. It wasn't another man in his personal space that bothered him; he and Skinner had whacked that one pretty much out of the ballpark. It was more this particular man's touch that had shot straight through him. He could still feel the warmth of that cheek against his. It had only been a fleeting touch, but it was gone, and he missed it. "I'm fine. You just took me by surprise..." He waved his hand. "Y'know?" 

Michael nodded. "Sorry." He held his hands up and stepped back. 

"No, it's..." Doggett shook his head, wanting Michael to understand, but the other man smiled and backed away, holding his hands out in front of him. 

"Hey, man. I'm just grateful, you know." He turned to Kathy and kissed her on the cheek. "Remind me to keep my hands to myself, will ya, honey?" 

She laughed and pushed him away. "Just sit down and keep out of trouble while I pour the coffee." 

He grinned and pulled out a chair. "Yes, ma'am." Indicating the chairs, he jerked his head to the others. "Please, sit down." He held out his hand to Emily. 

Doggett slowly sat back down, watching Emily climb on her father's lap, giggling as he tickled her tummy. The surge of shock was subsiding, and he took the time to calm down, try to relax and studying the man in front of him. He glanced at Skinner who raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the similarities. Doggett nodded and looked back at his brother. He noted that Michael had the same shaped hands as him. Long fingers just like their mother. And the way his tee shirt fitted, he could tell they both had the same shape body. The sort of build that could be called scrawny with the wrong outfit. Rangy, his wife had called it, back in the days when she still liked to see him without clothes. About the only radical difference he could see were the ears. Michael had normal ears. Doggett reached up and touched one of his without thinking. Thanks dad, he mused, then stopped. His dad. Not Michael's dad.  
A sudden thought rocked him. Maybe this man didn't even know he was adopted. Maybe his parents never got around to telling him. He stared at Emily wriggling on her father's lap, trying to get down. Exactly when did parents tell a child he wasn't theirs? 

"Here you go." 

He looked up, startled out of his thoughts as Kathy handed him a mug. "Thanks." He smiled at her. 

"You okay? You look... lost." 

He nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking." 

"Penny for them?"  
He laughed, embarrassed at being caught out. 

"He's probably trying to work out how he can sneak the rest of the cookies without anyone noticing," Skinner said, rescuing him. Kathy laughed, playfully pulling the plate away. 

Emily jumped down from her father's lap and pointed at Doggett. "John Jay's a Piglet, daddy!" 

"Emily! Don't be rude!" Michael pulled her arm down. 

"But he is!" she wailed. "Walter said so. He ate all but one of the cookies last night without offering him any! He said that's why he wears a Piglet shirt, so everyone will know." Michael regarded the embroidered motif then looked up at Doggett's face. 

"It's just a dumb nickname," Doggett said, waving his hand at the shirt. "My little sister called me that years ago and some people just won't let it go." He gave Skinner a pointed look and bit back a sigh. He was going to kill Skinner. With his bare hands. 

"I think it's sweet." Kathy handed him a cookie, grinning. "Here y'go, little Piglet." 

Doggett narrowed his eyes, taking the offering. "Thank you." He took a bite, still scowling. 

Emily moved to stand in front of him. "That's the third one now, John Jay. Don't eat them all, will you? You'll get cavities." She looked at his stomach. "And fat." 

Doggett coughed a laugh, choking on crumbs. He held out the remaining half to her. "Here. You have it. Save me from myself." 

She took the cookie with a smile. "I saved you and you saved me," she announced, popping the cookie in her mouth. 

"Fair's fair," Doggett nodded. He held his hand out and the girl took it, shaking it firmly. 

"Emily Rose knows," she said, spraying him lightly with crumbs. 

chapter twenty 

Sipping his coffee, Doggett listened to Skinner and his brother discussing the merits of various new aspects of corporate law versus the legislation that was already in place. The moment Skinner discovered that Michael was a legal man, he'd been delighted to be able to talk law with someone who's eyes didn't glaze over three seconds into the conversation. Another time, Doggett would have complained loudly about the topic under discussion, but today he was grateful to his lover for granting him a breathing space to just sit quietly, watching and listening to the two of them. He took the opportunity to observe, noting the quick sense of humor and the ironic slant on life that Michael displayed. He was a funny man, full of silly little anecdotes about his clients that made the conversation bearable, if not a total riot. Doggett was certain that without it, he would have fallen face-first into the plate of cookies with boredom. He wondered where the other man developed his sly humor - it wasn't inherited from his side of the family. 

He looked up as Kathy leaned closer to him. "He doesn't normally get a chance to talk 'shop'," she whispered. "It bores me rigid." 

Doggett laughed. "Yeah. Me too." 

"Thank God for Walter, huh?" 

Nodding, he drained the last of his coffee. "Uh uh. You mean thank God Walt has someone else to inflict this on. It's normally my privilege to listen to him rant." 

Kathy shuddered. "Ugh. I know what you mean. When Mike gets some bee in his bonnet about legal stuff, there's no stopping him." 

Doggett grinned. "I hate when Walt watches the news programs. He gets in such a state, he shouts at the TV." 

Kathy leaned closer, her hand over her mouth, giggling. Doggett allowed himself to briefly enjoy the touch of her hand on his arm. "Oh, you are so bad!" she laughed. 

Doggett shrugged, smiling. "Hey... Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about." 

"Well." she smiled. 

Emily tugged on her mother's vest top. "Mama, can I go get Tinkerbell? It's lonely in the playroom." 

"Oh, honey, I'm not sure how John and Walter feel about dogs." She grinned at Doggett. "I'd guess you're not all that keen on pets, are you?" 

"Sure, I like dogs." He shrugged. "But cats and me have this thing going on." 

"Distrust?" 

"More like out and out warfare." 

Kathy laughed. "Yeah. I see that." She nodded down at his lap. "I didn't ask... How is it?" 

"What?" 

"You know, where Button got you." 

"Oh..." He felt his face warming. "It's good. It's okay." 

"Sure?" 

He swore he could hear an edge of teasing in her voice. "I'm sure," he said firmly. "It'll be just fine." He wasn't about to go into any detail with her, nor was he going to drop his pants so she could dab on that disgusting disinfectant anyplace personal. Any dabbing that needed to be done would be done in private. He turned to Emily. "Go get your dog, sweetie. I'd like to meet him." She skipped out of the room. 

"You don't have to do this, you know." 

Doggett looked at her. "I like dogs. Really, I do." He grinned. "With a name like mine, it's a done deal, you know?" 

"I guess." She jerked her head. "How 'bout him? Is he okay with dogs?" 

Doggett winked and grinned. "Oh, yeah. He's very good with dogs." Kathy threw her head back and laughed out loud. 

Across the table, Skinner and Michael looked at them. "Something funny, babe?" Mike asked. 

"Nope. Just chatting with John, here." She grinned at him. 

Michael glanced at Skinner. "Ever get the impression you're the center of attention?" 

"Constantly." Skinner raised an eyebrow. 

"We were just discussing Tinkerbell." Kathy shrugged. "Nothing sinister." 

"Hhmmmm." Michael grunted. "I'll bet." 

The clatter of claws on wooden flooring drew everyone's attention. A large uncoordinated Labrador wearing a red bandanna skated across the kitchen, tail thrashing, tongue lolling out of its mouth as it slithered over to the table. "Tink!" Emily laughed. "Slow down!" 

The dog turned to look at her, skidded sideways and blindsided Doggett's leg. Wincing, he reached down to steady the animal. "Hey... Tinkerbell. Take it easy." Emily rushed over. 

"Oops! Sorry, John Jay. He isn't very good on this floor. He always runs too fast!" 

Doggett alternated rubbing his leg with fussing a pair of floppy brown ears. "Hey there, boy." He grinned at the frantic reaction to his petting. Tinkerbell snuffled and nuzzled his leg, working his way around in front to bury his nose in Doggett's crotch. "Hey!" He pulled the dog out from between his legs. "I'm not that kind of Doggett," he laughed. 

"Tinkerbell..." Kathy shook her head, swatting the dog's rump good naturedly. "You are such a pervert." 

Doggett looked up. He raised his eyebrows. "'Tinkerbell'? What's goin' on with that?" He glanced at the dog's undercarriage. "I mean... he is a 'he'." 

Kathy sighed. "Nothing to do with me. Em named him." 

"He's as pretty and as smart as Tinkerbell!" Emily announced, bending to hug the dog. Kathy rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Not! I think we got the only pup with Special Educational Needs." 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, please." Kathy shook her head. "He can't walk on the flooring, even five years after we got it. He hasn't gotten a grip of being a guard dog, and is the only Labrador Retriever I know that doesn't." 

Doggett shook his head. "Doesn't what?" 

"Retrieve." 

Doggett laughed softly, rubbing the back of the dog's head. Tinkerbell wagged harder, grinning at him. "Hey boy. You're a beauty, aren't you?" The dog agreed with him, getting more and more excited. "Yeah. I know...." Doggett scratched the floppy ears. "Who wants to fetch stuff anyway?" He quickly jerked his cast up out of the way as Tinkerbell tried to climb up on his lap. "Hey! No way, Tink!" Pushing the dog back down, he heard the rumble of Skinner's laughter. 

"There's that jumping in your lap thing, again, Doggett. You seem to have the knack in this family." 

Doggett gave his lover a narrowed-eyed stare. "Jealous?" 

Skinner held up his hands. "Nope. I'm kind of glad I haven't got to worry about being jumped up on." 

"Get down, Tinkerbell." Emily pulled on the dog's scarf until he sat down, staring at Doggett with adoring eyes. The girl looked at the both of them. "He likes you," she said. "I can tell." 

Doggett chucked the dog under the chin, smiling at the way the brown eyes closed in ecstasy. "Yeah. I like him, too." 

"Do you like his scarf?" Emily arranged it neatly on the dog's neck. 

"Yeah. It's real nice."  
There was a grunt from across the table. Doggett looked at Michael. 

"Daddy doesn't like it." 

"Uh huh." Doggett raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" 

"He says it makes him look like a furry." 

Michael laughed. "That's 'fairy', not furry." 

Doggett was aware of Kathy squirming in her chair. He kept his eyes on the dog, determined not to make an issue of this. He didn't imagine that his brother meant any harm by the comment. He didn't think he knew about his relationship with Skinner. Kathy hadn't had time to tell him. It wasn't a jibe aimed at them, just a family joke. He patted the dog then cleared his throat. 

"Well, I guess that's just fine, because Tinkerbell was a fairy, if I remember rightly." 

"You know Peter Pan?" Emily leaned on his knee, peering up at him, wide-eyed. "I do." 

"How come?" 

Doggett concentrated on stroking the dog. "I used to read it to my little boy." 

"How old is he? Can I play with him?" 

Doggett counted to ten before answering. "I'm sorry, Emily, but he's not here any more." 

"Why not?" 

"Emily..." Kathy's voice held a warning. 

The little girl ignored it. "Where is he?" 

Doggett finally looked up at her. He smiled. "He died a long time ago, sweetheart." 

"Oh." 

There was a long silence that none of the adults knew how to fill. Doggett went back to digging his fingers in Tinkerbell's fur, relieved he hadn't embarrassed himself. He concentrated on petting the dog who was happy enough to allow him to do so. Finally, Emily leaned forward.   
"You know what, John Jay? I bet you were a nice daddy," she whispered. Doggett's throat made an involuntary noise. 

Kathy reached out to touch her daughter's arm. "Emily. That's enough." 

Emily turned. "Why?" 

"I think it might be upsetting to John." 

"Oh." 

There was a small pause, then Doggett was aware of a small face filling his field of vision as Emily peered up between him and the dog. He gave her a little smile and she smiled back. Solemnly, she handed him a cookie and he accepted with a smile. 

"Thank you," he said. He bit into the treat, eating half of it in one bite. He shoved the cookie to one side of his mouth. "Here y'go. I don't want to get fat, do I?" he said, handing her the other half. Emily shook her head, laughing and shared her half with the dog, who snaffled it down eagerly. Emily bent to feed the last crumbs to him, one by one. 

"Well, you certainly made a friend there," Michael said, nodding his head. 

Doggett smiled as he watched Emily fuss the dog. "She's a great kid," he said quietly. 

"So John," Kathy said, pushing the plate towards him with a nod. "Is it your nickname-giving sister who lives around here?" 

"Um..." He'd forgotten why he was here. He frowned, floundering for words. 

"Hey... You have family round these parts?" Michael placed his mug down and reached over for another cookie. "That's cool." 

"Well..."Doggett paused, having no clue how to go about explaining things. He licked his lips, hesitating. 

"I wish I had a sister," Emily said from down at his feet. "Or a brother. Mama said maybe one day. I have Button and Tink, but I really want a little baby to play with." She stood up and tapped the back of Doggett's hand. "How many brothers and sisters do you have, John Jay?" 

chapter twenty one. 

The question cut straight to the heart of the situation. It was down to a clear choice. He closed his eyes and brought his hand up to rub them. There was no elegant way out of this. He should have just come out with it from the start. As soon as he realized who these people were. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly to ward off the impending headache. 

"John..."Kathy reached over to touch his shoulder. "Are you in pain? Can I get you something?" 

Doggett shook his head, still staring at the sparkly dots on the inside of his eyelids. "No. Thank you." 

The silence in the kitchen told him that all eyes were on him, and it very nearly freaked him out. They were all waiting for him to speak. Even Skinner seemed to have abdicated all responsibility. But then, it wasn't Skinner's problem; wasn't Skinner's family. Doggett knew how his lover felt about the idea of having an illegitimate brother - he'd been an only child and would love the chance. But that was a moot point. It wasn't Skinner that had to deal with this. He sighed and looked up. How many brothers he had depended on how well Michael took the news. 

"Well, Emily, I guess I have one of each, now." He glanced over at Skinner for moral support and was rewarded with a smile. 

"What d'you mean, 'now'?" she asked. 

Doggett stared at the little girl. "Because that's who I was looking for. " 

"Yeah?" She brightened. "Oh, cool! Did you find them?" 

Doggett pulled in a deep breath. "Well... It's kinda complicated." 

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want," Kathy said. "It's not really our business." 

Doggett smiled a little. "Well, actually, I guess it is." 

She frowned. "I don't understand." 

This was it. Shit or get off the pot, as his dad used to say. "I'm not sure where to start," he said, rubbing his ear. "It's a long story." 

"Once upon a time," Emily said, squeezing the edge of the foam sling between two dainty fingers. "That's how all the best stories start." 

Doggett laughed softly, despite himself. "Okay then." He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling for inspiration. "Once upon a time there was a lady who loved two men," he began. "She was married to one of then, but not to the other. She had already had a baby with her husband, but one day she found she was expecting another baby, and the other man was the daddy." Emily nodded, as if she understood the dilemma completely. Doggett smiled at her, and shrugged. "When her husband found out about this other baby, he told his wife that she couldn't keep it." 

Emily leaned forward. "Was he a mean, bad man?" 

Doggett shook his head. "No. He was a good man, but very sad about not being daddy to the baby. He knew he could never love it as one of his own." 

It was amazing how simple it all sounded. How the agony both his parents had experienced could be contained in this fairy-tale nutshell. 

"Okay," she said. "What happened next?" 

"Well..." Doggett said solemnly. "The lady was very sad too because she had to give her baby to a family that lived a long way away, but she knew that they would be able to love her baby." He paused, watching Emily's face as she digested the story. She frowned, then looked at him. 

"So which baby were you?" she asked. 

Doggett laughed. "You really are a clever young lady, aren't you?" 

Emily nodded. "Uh huh. Were you the one she gave away?" 

He shook his head. "No. I'm the one she had already. It was the other baby that was adopted." 

"I know what that word means!" she said excitedly. "My daddy is that!" 

Doggett looked over at Michael for the first time since beginning his story. He was surprised there was no reaction on his face - no stunned look of revelation. Emily rattled on. "Daddy said that the lady that had him first couldn't keep him, so Gramma Mary got to have him to love, coz she couldn't have babies of her own. Isn't that right, daddy?" 

Michael nodded. "Yeah, Sweetie. That's about right." It sounded as if he were amused at the turn of conversation. 

Doggett stared back, willing him to join the dots, to make the connection so he could be spared the ordeal of actually saying the words out loud. He waited in silence, getting more tense by the second. It was screamingly obvious to him; he couldn't believe the other man hadn't guessed already. 

"And then what happened?" Emily tugged on his sling. Doggett stayed silent, trying to formulate a gentle way of putting the facts. He wondered how he would like to have heard the news. 

"Oh God..." Kathy's hand went to her mouth. She looked from one side of the table to the other. "Oh, God." she whispered. "No." 

Doggett took one look at her face and knew she knew. 

Michael's eyes flicked to her, distracted. He frowned. "Kath? What is it?" 

"Oh. Mike. Don't you see?"  
Doggett watched his brother's frown deepen. It was like looking at a mirror image of his own forehead. 

"See what? What's the matter?" Michael reached over to lay his hand on her arm. 

"Oh Lord," she whispered. "I can see it now," she said, looking from one to the other. Doggett's relief at her knowing was tempered by the very real fear that she wasn't happy with the whole idea. 

"Katherine." Michael's voice was borderline sharp. "What's gotten into you?" 

She looked at her husband. "You have to see it. Surely you see it?" 

He held his hands up. "See what, for cryin' out loud?" 

Kathy looked over to Doggett who nodded. Seemed he wasn't going to be spared after all. He took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something, Michael? Do you by any chance know your natural mother's name?" 

Michael looked taken aback by the question. He shook his head. "Yeah... I do, actually. I got it from the papers my mother kept." He half-smiled. "My adoptive mother." 

"And?" Doggett felt his hand gripping his leg so hard it hurt, but couldn't relax enough to let go. 

Shaking his head as if he was confused by the question, Michael sighed. "Elizabeth Milsom." 

Although he already knew what the answer would be, Doggett felt a shiver of something run down his spine. He nodded. "Elizabeth Anne Milsom." 

Michael's mouth dropped slightly. "How d'you know that?" 

"Because Elizabeth Milsom's married name is Betty Doggett." He stopped, not knowing what else to say. He just watched Michael's face and waited as the picture cleared and all the dots joined up. 

"Betty Dogg..." Michael's mouth dropped open and hung down. It was almost comical as his mind connected the name to the man sitting in his kitchen. Almost comical. Doggett was far too tightly wound up to find much humor in the situation. He just sat and held his breath, hoping for a positive reaction, praying silently to a God he hadn't been on speaking terms with for a very long time. "You mean..." Michael trailed off, pointing across the table. Doggett nodded.   
"You mean that you're..." He pointed at himself and back again. "You're my..." He didn't seem to be able to bring himself to say the necessary word. He stood, abruptly. "Jesus Christ!" He backed away from the table, running his hand over his head. 

"Michael...' Kathy stood up. "Michael, honey..." He looked at her, blankly. "It's okay, baby." She put her hand to his cheek. 

Doggett watched as the other man backed further away, turning to stare at the kitchen wall. Kathy stood with him, murmuring softly. He braced both hands on the counter and leaned forward. 

Slowly, Doggett forced himself to relax his grip on his leg. He winced, flexing the life back into his numb fingers. A movement caught his eye and he turned to look across at Skinner. His lover smiled slightly, a concerned expression on his face silently asking if Doggett was all right. He nodded, not wanting to draw attention to himself by speaking, not sure if he could manage words in anything like a normal voice. At his lap, Tinkerbell nudged his head into the crook of his leg. Rubbing the furry head, Doggett cleared his throat and whispered nonsense to the animal, who didn't care how his voice sounded. The dog grinned up at him, tongue lolling out of his mouth, happy to accept fuss on any terms. 

"John Jay?" Emily appeared at the side of his chair. 

He glanced at her. "Uh huh?" 

"Who is Betty Doggett?" 

"My mother," he replied, glad he sounded pretty much like normal. 

"Oh." Emily frowned. "But you said that daddy's mamma was Betty Doggett." 

He nodded. "Yeah. She is." 

He was aware of her intense gaze as he petted Tinkerbell. He wondered what she was thinking and if the conclusion she was formulating was going to be as devastating as her father obviously thought it was. 

"So that means you're my daddy's big brother," she said at last. 

Doggett nodded. "I guess it does." A huff of dog breath blew into his face and he pushed the furry face back out of range. Over the other side of the kitchen, Kathy turned Michael around, running her hands over his face, talking softly to him. Doggett felt an ache of disappointment. Looked like he wasn't going to get the welcome he had hoped for. A large part of him mourned that, but mostly he wasn't surprised. He looked over at Skinner, then away, unable to deal with the sympathetic expression. 

"So if you're daddy's big brother..." Emily repeated, screwing up her face in concentration. "Then that must mean..." She brightened. "That you're my uncle." 

Doggett looked at her. She didn't seem too upset by the idea. "Well... Yes. I suppose I am." They stared at one another for a long while. And then a slow grin spread over her face, coaxing a similar smile from Doggett. 

"Uncle John," she said, trying out the name. 

"Emily Rose," he replied, holding his hand out to her. "Very nice to meet you." 

She took his hand in hers and they shook solemnly. Then in a sudden burst of laughter, she launched herself forward, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. "Uncle John!" she exclaimed. "I have an Uncle John!" 

Doggett wrapped his one arm around her, ignored the pain of her leaning on his bad leg and hugged her back. "You sure do," he said, his voice muffled by her hair. 

After long minutes, she released him and turned around, one arm still slung around his neck. "Look, Daddy! Mama! I have an uncle!" Doggett looked up, wanting to see for himself their reaction. Kathy still stood next to Michael who now faced them, looking shocked, still silent. There was an air of stunned disbelief in his body language that Doggett couldn't help but translate negatively. 

"John Jay is your big brother, daddy. You have the same mama. Isn't that cool?" She bounced up and down. Oblivious to her father's non-response, Emily hooked her arm around Doggett's neck and pulled him closer. Giggling, she planted a loud kiss on his cheek, then with a giggle, another. "Uncle John Jay!" Doggett smiled at her enthusiastic kiss, his ear ringing loudly. "I only have one auntie, and she lives a long way away, but now I have you. It's a shame I didn't know you before, but it's okay, because now I can know you forever." She held her hand up and waited until Doggett got the idea and high-fived it. He slapped her hand gently, the big smile on his face matched by hers. 

"Hey, there," he said. 

"Yo, man," she replied, making him laugh. 

Taking hold on his fingers, she wiggled his hand up and down. "Did you always know you had a brother somewhere?" she asked. 

Doggett shook his head. "No. I only found out when my father died last year." 

"Oh, dear. Were you sad he died?" 

"Yes. I miss him." The reply came instantly, surprising him with its honesty. He nodded. "He was a good man." 

"My daddy's a good man, too." Emily said, looking over at her father. 

Doggett raised his eyes. Michael was staring at him as if he were a walking X-File, which he supposed he was. He couldn't say he blamed the other man for the expression on his face. It had taken him a while to get to grips of the idea of a brother, and he'd had space and time to think about it. Here he was, sitting in this man's kitchen, expecting a reaction that most likely wasn't forthcoming, not for a while, if at all. 

Emily ran to her father's side. "Come on, daddy. Come say hello to John Jay, now we know who he really is." Michael allowed himself to be pulled across the kitchen floor. Doggett got carefully to his feet as they reached him. "Say hello, daddy," she instructed. "And John Jay, say hello back." 

Bemused, Michael's face softened into a smile. He held Doggett's gaze and shrugged slightly. "Hello," he said at last. 

"Hi," Doggett replied. They stared at one another, neither knowing what to say next. "Now you have to shake hands." Emily shoved her father's hand under Doggett's nose. Doggett swallowed and lifted his own hand to take it. "Nice to meet you," he said, thinking how inane that sounded. 

Michael looked at their clasped hands, up to Doggett's face and laughed softly. "I think my daughter has a future in the United Nations peace keeping force." 

"That, or hostage negotiation," Doggett smiled. 

He kept a tight hold on the other man's hand, not wanting to release it, just in case it was the last time he ever got to touch his brother. "I'm real sorry. Droppin' this on you like I did." He sighed. "I wasn't plannin' on even speakin' to you. But things got kinda... well, complicated." He was surprised and pleased that Michael hadn't let go of him yet. "I didn't know who Emily was. I swear. Not until Kathy wrote your address on that note." His eyes flicked over to her. She smiled around hands held in front of her mouth. "And then it was too late." He gave a rueful smile. "I couldn't NOT speak to you, even if I knew it was gonna be one hell of a shock for you." 

"You can say that again." Michael said, shaking his head. He rolled his eyes. "You've taken my breath away." He finally let Doggett's hand go. 

Doggett swallowed. "I know. I'm sorry. It was a dumb thing to do. I shoulda maybe phoned, first." 

"Nonsense." Kathy stepped up. "There isn't a manual on how to meet your family for the first time, for goodness sake." She reached and touched Doggett's arm. "You were very brave to come here." She laughed. "God! I can't believe I didn't see it until just now!" You two are so alike." She stood between them, looking from one to the other. 

"You think?" Doggett smiled. 

"God, yes. Just look at you..." She glanced at him up and down, making him go warm. You're most definitely poured from the same mold." 

Michael pulled a face. "That's a horrible expression, babe." 

"Well. You know what I mean. Look at him, Mike." She nodded her head towards Doggett. "I mean REALLY look." 

Doggett stood patiently, if not a little uncomfortably as the two of them stared at him from tip to toe. He stood still and accepted the discomfort of being studied as penance. Unconsciously straightening his spine, he held a parade ground stance, chin up, chest out, staring at a point on the wall opposite. Only the fact of the sling kept him from gripping his hands behind his back. 

"You see it?" Kathy asked. "You see yourself there?" 

Michael turned his head from side to side. "I guess," he said slowly. "Some." 

Kathy reached up to touch the side of Doggett's face. "He has your eyes. Not the color, maybe, but the way they smile." Doggett couldn't help but oblige with demonstrating. "There you go!" Kathy laughed. 

He bowed his head, embarrassed by both the scrutiny and the touch of her palm on his cheek. "Gimme a break," he muttered. 

Michael barked with laughter. "You gotta be kiddin' me! You better get used to her ways real quick if you're gonna be part of this family." 

Doggett's head came up. His smile melted away by surprise. He was aware his mouth was hanging open slightly. He shut it with a snap, wondering if he looked like a complete dork. Michael looked at him. "Do you?" 

Doggett's breath caught in his chest. "Do I what?" 

The younger man shrugged. "Want to be part of the family?" 

The grin crept back over Doggett's face until he felt his cheeks aching with the strain. "I'd like that very much." 

chapter twenty two. 

Doggett had found himself mentally stepping back from things several times in the hours that followed, in order to catch his breath. It wasn't so much the sheer energy required to keep up with everyone, with his injuries, but more that the reality of the situation kept creeping up on him, shocking him into silent contemplation. The times when he tuned out were almost fugue-like. He would see and hear the activity around him, but his head seemed muffled, shutting everything out. He'd had one of the moments while he was in Emily's room, being talked through seemingly all her birthday gifts from the past seven years. He had sat on the child's bed, holding a Barbie doll, his mind backing away from the chatter. 

He had a brother.   
It was unreal, abstract and totally amazing. There was another man walking this planet who looked very much like he did, a man with half his genetic make up. And that man's child was a part of him too. Emily was so very different from Luke it would have been hard to place them in the same gene pool and if he was honest with himself, that was a blessed relief. If she had been blond and blue-eyed, he didn't think he could have taken it. Somewhere in the middle of all his tumbling thoughts, Emily had come right up close, almost touching noses, to inquire if he was okay. He had smiled and asked to see the Pooh things she had, distracting her from his distraction. 

It had happened again later. They had all been walking around the garden in the afternoon sunshine. Kathy had been the target of gentle teasing from both Skinner and Michael on the state of her tomato plants, when Doggett felt himself disappearing inside his head. He had stared at Michael's back, wondering if his looked the same from behind and how they could possibly have the same shaped butt, when his brother confessed to rarely working out and he slaved for hours in the Bureau gym. Did seven years really make that much difference? Skinner had put his hand on his shoulder and asked in a quietly concerned voice if he wanted to sit down. Doggett had made light of the moment, claiming fatigue. He had been shamed by the white lie when he was instantly subjected to fussing. He'd been ushered into the lounge and plied with a cool drink. He felt like a complete fraud. 

In deference to his 'fatigue', he had been told he couldn't help fix supper; he had to sit in the lounge and relax. He had listened to Kathy issuing commands, while Skinner and his brother laughed, arguing about the best way to peel potatoes. Sitting on the sofa, reading Harry Potter to Emily, he was strangely content, with a cuddled up child at his side and the sound the good-natured banter drifting in from the kitchen. It pleased him that Skinner and his brother had hit it off so well. If Michael was going to be a part of his life from now on, it was important that his lover liked him. 

Emily poked him in the stomach.   
"You're supposed to be reading to me," she complained. "You've missed two bits already." 

"Sorry, sweetheart," he smiled. "I'm a bit distracted today." He flicked back a couple of pages in the book. He ran his eyes through the text, trying to remember the last thing he'd read. Nothing much rang any bells. 

"It is very exciting, isn't it?" 

"What's that?" he muttered, looking for a familiar bit of prose. 

"Finding someone new." 

Doggett smiled. "You bet it is. I find I've not just found a new brother, but a sister-in-law and a very special niece, too. I'm just about worn out with all the excitement." 

Emily nodded. "And a dog and a cat, too." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, Tink and I get along well enough, but I think Button has some issues we need to work through." He looked at the scratch on his hand. 

"Bad cat," Emily said, touching the scab carefully. "Does it still hurt?" 

"Nah. I'm big and tough. I can take a little pussy cat scratch." He pulled a face and pretended to cry. 

Giggling, Emily shoved her elbow into his ribs. "Silly." 

Doggett grinned and goosed her in the tummy with wriggling fingers. "Silly, am I?" 

"Yes!" she squealed, fighting him off. In the kitchen the phone rang. "You're a silly-billy John Jay!" 

Laughing, Doggett bopped her on the nose. "Emily Rose nose." 

Michael appeared in the doorway. "If you two children are done, I think your mama needs your help, Em." 

Scrambling down, Emily ran into the kitchen. Doggett eased himself forward to put the book on the coffee table with a grunt. Michael watched from the doorway. "You okay? 

Doggett nodded. "I guess. Just stiff. I'll live," he smiled. He noticed a strange look on the other man's face. "What?" 

"Thank you," Michael said softly. 

"Huh?" 

"For Emily." 

Inclining his head, Doggett smiled. "Kinda funny, huh? Finding out who she really is? I thought keeping her safe was reward enough, but I guess I lucked out." 

Michael moved to the sofa and sat down. He shook his head. "Yeah. But so did we." Doggett's eyebrows rose. He felt a surge of hope and pleasure. Fiddling with the seam on his jeans, Michael sighed. "Look. About earlier...." 

"It's okay. Forget it." 

"No. It was stupid of me. I wasn't..." He lifted his hand as if to gesture, but then let it drop. "Oh, fuck it." Doggett grinned. "Hey..." He smiled back, sheepishly. "I'm just a dumb attorney. I need written warning in triplicate before I can deal with change." 

Doggett laughed softly. "I know another law major like that." He shrugged. "S'okay. I understand, really." 

"Yeah?" 

He nodded. "Uh huh. It's not a problem. Besides..." Leaning back on the sofa, he waved at the room. "You and Kathy have made us both feel so welcome." 

Michael leaned back, staring ahead. "It's a pleasure. We'd be happy to have you here, even if you weren't, you know... Related." 

Doggett grunted and they both sat staring ahead in silence. He wondered if Michael was experiencing the time outs that he was. It was just as much of a shock to both of them. He opened his mouth to ask as Michael spoke. 

"Can I ask you something, John?" 

Doggett glanced left. "Uh huh." 

"Am I right in thinking that you and Walt..." 

Doggett nodded, jumping in before he finished speaking. "Yeah, we are." 

Michael shook his head, looking blank. "Huh?" 

Doggett felt a creeping doubt crawl up on him. He clenched his teeth, Was he jumping the gun here? He cleared his throat and finished what he had been going to say. "Lovers." 

Michael's eyes widened and he turned to stare. "Well, actually, I was just gonna ask if you worked in the same department at the FBI," he said in a small voice. 

Doggett closed his mouth. He took a couple of deep breaths and silently cursed his tactlessness. Obviously Kathy hadn't gotten around to breaking the news. "Oh." Michael's eyes were still perfect circles. He blinked a couple of times. Bracing himself, Doggett turned to look at the other man's face. "Is that a problem?" 

"Not for you, apparently." 

Doggett stared into the gray eyes. "How 'bout for you?" 

Michael shrugged. "It's none of my business." 

"True. But you gotta have an opinion." 

Michael turned to stare forward. "It's your life, I have no right to say how you live it." 

Doggett nodded, agreeing with him. "But?" 

"But..." His gaze dropping to his restless hands, Michael shrugged. "I honestly don't know what you want me to say, John. I don't know any gay men. Not, you know... Personally." He glanced over, his gaze flicking up and down Doggett's body, then sliding away. 

Doggett stared at him, noting the track of the grey eyes and the uncomfortable expression. "It's not catching." 

"Very funny." 

Doggett gave him a pointed look. "I don't see you laughin'." 

"No. I guess not." Michael sighed into the silence. "You seem to have a thing for dropping bombshells." 

Doggett gave a tight smile. "Yeah. I guess." 

This wasn't going as Doggett planned. It wasn't going how he'd imagined. In fact it wasn't going very well at all. He was beginning to feel like the other man was slipping away from him without actually physically moving along on the sofa. The thought upset him more than he anticipated. 

"Tell me somethin', will you?" Michael nodded without looking up. "This business of me and Walt... Is it the act of two men sleeping together that bothers you; or is it because you and I are related?" 

Michael raised his eyes to stare at him. Doggett knew that at least one part of that question had hit a raw nerve. He waited for an answer, wondering which truth Mike was going to admit to. "You don't take prisoners, do you?" he said at last. 

Doggett shrugged. "I'm done with hiding. Life's too short." He was going to add that he could live without censure from anyone, including a brother, however much he might want one. Michael was still looking at him. "Well?" Doggett pressed. 

The younger man pulled a face. "I just don't get what you see in it." 

Doggett smiled grimly. "What? Love?" 

His brother had the grace to look uncomfortable. "No. I meant... You know..." He lifted his hand to indicate Doggett's body. "All that stuff," he finished, a wince crossing his face. 

"Sex?" 

Michael nodded, grimacing. Doggett couldn't help rolling his eyes. "It's just two people makin' love, y'know?" 

From the expression on Michael's face, it was clear that the idea of sex between two men was not one he relished. "Yeah, but..." he started to say. 

"Yeah, nothin'." Doggett narrowed his eyes. "Look just tell me now if how Walt and I live our lives freaks you out, and we'll go. The last thing I wanna do is make you uncomfortable. I didn't come here to do that. I just wanted to get to know you." 

Any anger he might have felt bled away as the last sentence sighed out of him. If his leg hadn't hurt so much he'd be tempted to get up and walk out of the room, to avoid letting the other man seeing how upset he was. He distracted himself with picking at the edge of his cast. This time the silence between them was painful, but Doggett was damned if he was going to be the one to break it. 

At last, Michael spoke. "I'm glad that you want to know me. Really." 

Doggett looked up from his picking. "Despite what I am?" 

Michael hesitated then took a breath. "I can't say it doesn't bother me, it does. I know that's down to me, my prejudices and stuff, but you're my family. I want to get to know you, too." He smiled. "I guess I'm gonna hafta re-adjust my way of thinking about some people, aren't I?" 

Doggett allowed a smile to soften his face. He tilted his head slightly. "Disappointed?" 

Michael raised his eyebrows. "In you?" He considered the question carefully. "No, I don't think so. But I gotta say I'm surprised. You don't look the type; either of you." 

Doggett lifted one eyebrow. "You mean we can't be queer 'cause we don't sing showtunes and wear pink high heels?" 

Michael shook his head. "Don't put words into my mouth." 

Doggett grunted disdainfully. "Well..." 

"What I meant was neither of you act..." 

"Sissy?" 

"Jesus, give me a chance to speak, would you? What I was gonna say was that you don't act out - put your sexuality on show. You don't shove it down people's throats." 

Doggett couldn't help the slow grin that spread over his face at that comment. He watched as color infused Michael's face. "Oh, shit..." His brother buried his face in his hands. "God, that was SO the wrong thing to say..." 

Doggett laughed. "How's that visual comin' on?" 

"Way too vivid, thank you," came the muffled reply. 

Resting his head back, Doggett waited out the moment with a smile on his face. He waited until Michael sat back before speaking. "We were both married, you know." 

"Yeah?" 

"Uh huh. Walt's a widower, I'm divorced." 

"Oh." Michael glanced over. "Isn't that kinda unusual?" 

"Maybe." Doggett shrugged. " I don't know about anyone else, just that for us, it works. We're both happy." 

"I guess that's all that really matters in the end, huh?" 

Doggett nodded. "You got that right." 

There was an impatient knocking from the kitchen. "Hey, you two! Dinner's on the table!" 

Michael stood up. "C'mon. I don't know about you, but I'm not brave enough to piss off that woman." 

chapter twenty three. 

Kathy poured the rest of the red wine into Skinner's glass despite his protests. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mrs. Huckabee?" 

She laughed. "You guessed it. Actually, I have an ulterior motive." 

Skinner's eyebrow rose. "Indeed?" 

"Yep." Sitting back down, she hooked her hair behind her ear. "I figure that if I get you over the legal limit, you can't drive off to find a motel and you'll have to stay over." 

"You don't have to..." 

She held her hand up, cutting him off. "Nonsense. We'd be delighted to have you both stay. In fact we'd be deeply wounded if you declined. Isn't that right, Mike?" 

Michael paused, his glass halfway to his mouth. "Um... Yeah, of course. Whatever you say, babe." He mugged a face at Emily, who giggled. 

"Are you mocking me, husband?" 

"Uh uh. Not at all, darling." He put his glass down and blew her a kiss. "I'd love to have John and Walt stay over." He nodded, a serious expression on his face. "Honestly. It'd be our pleasure to have you here." 

Doggett glanced over the top of Emily's head to Skinner, the pause in his petting of Tinkerbell earning him a nudge. He raised an eyebrow. Skinner returned the expression. Doggett looked hard at Michael, trying to determine if he was just being polite. Across the table his brother nodded at him. "I'd like you to stay. Please." 

Doggett inclined his head. "In that case, we'd be honored to accept. Thank you." He pushed the dog's nose out of his crotch and scratched a floppy ear. 

"Can John sleep in my room?" Emily spoke up from behind her glass of milk. 

"I don't think there's enough room for that, honey," Kathy smiled. She wiggled her eyebrows at Doggett who tried very hard not to blush. 

"I guess John and Walter will have to have the spare room. I think Gramma's old bed is big enough for them to share." 

Doggett glanced over, wondering if either Michael or the little girl was going to make a comment about the sleeping arrangements, but she was more interested in digging holes in the sugar bowl and Michael merely stared at the table, his expression unreadable. Doggett mentally shrugged. If the man had a problem, then he'd had ample chance to voice it. 

"Is that okay?" Kathy looked at him. 

"Sure. Thanks." Doggett nodded and smiled. 

Michael cleared his throat. "So. Tell me about this sister, John. How does she figure in the family?" He leaned back in his chair. "Am I gonna like her?" 

Doggett sat up straight, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Damn! Oh hell, I forgot!" He shook his head, groaning. "Oh man, I am gonna be in so much trouble." 

"What?" 

"I was supposed to call her and let her know what was goin' on." He pulled a face. "She's gonna kill me." 

Michael grinned. "Yeah? Sounds like someone's sister's got a big tough FBI man wrapped around her little finger." 

Doggett lifted his head. "It's the safest place to be, trust me." 

Kathy laughed. "I think I like this girl already!" She tossed her napkin on the table and checked her watch. "Why don't you call her? It's not too late." 

Doggett shrugged. "Well..." 

Michael nodded. "I'd like that. Do you think she'd want to talk to me?" 

"Are you kidding?" Doggett rolled his eyes. "She's gonna kick my butt for not gettin' you to call sooner." 

"Butt to beak!" Emily exclaimed. "Kick your butt and beak!" 

Kathy stared. "Em?" 

Doggett glared over at Skinner.   
"Where did you hear that?" Michael asked. 

Emily bounced in her chair. "Walter said it! He said the doctors would have to check John out from butt to beak at the hospital." 

Michael hid his mouth behind his napkin. "Oh," he said. 

Skinner cleared his throat. "Yes, well... Sorry about that." 

"I told you." Doggett grinned. "But you wouldn't listen. Oh no." 

Skinner huffed out a breath. "Sorry." 

"Not to worry. Could have been worse, I suppose." Kathy smiled. Doggett bit his lip and hoped Emily had forgotten one particular word that he'd let slip out. 

"So. Are you going to make that call, honey?" Kathy nodded to the phone hanging on the wall. "I think you should. Before it gets too late." 

"Yeah. I'd like that." He stood up. "John? You gonna introduce me to our sister?" 

"Sure." Doggett pushed Tinkerbell's head away and followed him to take the receiver. He nestled it under his chin, cradling it with his shoulder. "Brace yourself." He tapped in the number and waited. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Sal. It's me." Doggett winced at the yell that ran down the line and into his ear. He let her squeal and shout for a full minute before attempting to speak. As she stared to berate him on his timekeeping for the third time, he sighed. "You gonna stop your yappin' and let me get a word in edgewise, woman?" 

"You pig! You told me you'd keep in touch!" 

"I am in touch. I'm callin' you now, ain't I?" 

"That's aren't I, you uncouth slob. And it's about damned time. Where have you been? Where are you calling from? And what the hell time d'you call this!!" Doggett grinned and glanced at Michael, who could obviously hear what was being yelled. 

"I call it time I introduced you to your other big brother." 

The line went silent. "You still there, baby?" 

A small voice came back. "You met him?" 

"He's standin' right here." 

"No!" 

"Uh huh. Listening in on your rantin' and ravin'." Again silence echoed down the line. "You think you might wanna have a word with him? If you haven't scared him off, that is." 

"God, Johnny. Is he really there?" 

"Uh huh." Doggett nodded. "He's standin' right beside me." He looked at the other man, who smiled. 

"What does he look like?" 

Doggett laughed. "He looks like a regular guy, what d'you expect?" 

Michael grinned. "Tell her I'm the handsome one." Doggett opened his mouth to pass the message on and was silenced by a squeal. 

"Oh my God! He really IS there!" 

Tilting his head away from the phone, Doggett winced. "Geez, Sal. Must you do that? You damn near burst my ears." 

"Put him on! Put him on!" 

Grinning, Doggett handed the phone over. "There you go. And don't say I didn't warn you." 

Michael took the phone. He nodded his thanks and cleared his throat. "Hello?" 

Doggett limped back to his chair, trying not to listen in to the conversation. He grinned at Skinner who winked. "I take it you're in disgrace, then?" 

"Oh, yeah. Big time." Tinkerbell shoved his head under Doggett's arm, pestering for fuss. 

"How old is Sally?" Kathy asked, starting to gather up the dishes. "Am I right in thinking she's quite a bit younger than you?" 

Doggett nodded, ruffling the dog's fur. "Yep. By 15 years." 

"Uh huh. And you get along okay?" 

Doggett grinned. "Yeah. She's great. I love her to bits. Even though she drives me nuts." 

Kathy laughed. "That's her job, John." 

"I guess so." 

"Is she pretty?" Emily passed a dish to her mother. 

"Yeah. She is." Doggett gathered up handful of cutlery and passed it to Walt. "I think she's beautiful." 

"As pretty as me?" 

Doggett laughed. "Oh, now come to think of it, you're so pretty, it must run in the family." 

It didn't take very long to pack the dishwasher, tidy the pans, and clear up after supper. Doggett and Emily fetched and carried while Skinner helped Kathy with the things that were too precious to go in the washer. All the while, Michael talked to Sal, his murmured conversation punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter. Doggett was relieved, but not really surprised. Sal was a very likable woman. He could almost have guaranteed Michael would get along with her. And she was going to have a fit when she found out about Emily. Sal had adored Luke. 

"Make yourself useful," Skinner told him, handing over a bunch of cutlery. He nodded at an open drawer. 

"Hey, I'm an invalid, here," Doggett complained, standing up and juggling the forks, trying not to drop them. 

"Yeah, right." Skinner handed him some more. 

"Hey!" Doggett fumbled two, and they clattered to the countertop. 

Skinner laughed. "Clumsy." 

"I outta shove..." 

Kathy raised a finger. "Ah ah. Little pitchers." 

Doggett grunted, sweeping the forks into the drawer. "Tryin' to get me into trouble," he muttered. 

"You get into plenty on your own," Skinner told him, snapping the dishcloth against his ass. 

"OW!" Doggett grabbed at the cloth. "Gimme that!" 

"Uh uh. You're an invalid, remember?" Skinner fended him off with one hand. 

"Children, please." Kathy removed the cloth from Skinner's grip and snapped it at him. "Behave, yes?" 

Michael walked over and draped an arm around her neck, kissing her cheek. "You beatin' on the guests again, honey? I told you about that." 

"Just dealing with crowd control," she said, draping the cloth over his shoulder. "So go on, tell us about Sally." 

Michael laughed. "Oh boy, that's one live wire, there. How did you cope, growing up with her?" He rolled his eyes, making Doggett smile. 

"She's unique, I hafta admit that." 

"Some sense of humor." 

Doggett raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?" 

"Well, it's different." 

"That's one way to describe it." 

Michael shrugged his shoulder. "She, um... told me a little about your...." He smiled and corrected himself. "Our mother." 

Doggett wondered exactly what Sal had let slip. "Yeah?" 

"A challenge, I think was her expression." 

Doggett laughed. "Well... You could say that." 

"She said she wanted to meet me." He looked hopeful. 

Doggett nodded. "I guess so. She wanted to find you years ago, but Dad wouldn't allow it." He held up a hand. "Don't judge him too hard about that. It can't have been easy, knowin' your wife had...' He glanced over at Emily. "Well, you know." 

Michael shrugged. "I wasn't going to say anything. At least he didn't insist she get rid of... Well, you know." He glanced down at Emily, busy trying to tie a dishcloth around Tinkerbell's neck and smiled. "Hey, Shortstuff, you really think Tink appreciates that?" 

Emily looked up, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. Her face radiated mischief. "He likes it, Daddy." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Uh-huh. He told me so." 

Michael laughed. "Yeah?" 

"He did. When you were on the telephone. We had a chat." 

Shaking his head, Michael held up his hand. "Okay. If you say so." 

Doggett laughed. "Reminds me of Sal. She was always dressin' up Hound. Drove our dad crazy; there he was, the big old rat-catchin' dog decked out in a little sun bonnet and apron." He grinned. "Worst of all was when his army buddies came over to play poker an' there was this mean old dog just glarin' at them on the back porch in some lacy pink outfit." 

As the evening drew in and the sun finally dipped behind the hills, Doggett listened to Emily informing her parents about a whole wardrobe for Tinkerbell. Skinner rolled his eyes and leaned in to murmur in his ear. "You've really done it now. That dog isn't going to get a minute's peace." Doggett grinned down at the Labrador, who was staring at him with an expression that looked as if he understood every word of what was in store for him. 

chapter twenty four 

Doggett grunted and turned over in his sleep. He rubbed his face into the pillow, sighing. Next to him, Skinner rested his hand on his ass, creating a warm patch that warmed his butt through his boxers. In his sleeping mind, images rushed around, excerpts from the past couple of days blending together into a pastiche of confusing pictures. A pink school bus roared past his mind's eye, the windows framing hordes of screaming clowns, each holding colored balloons. As he watched, the bus shot off the edge of a glass cliff and flew away. Doggett shuddered in his sleep, unreasonably disappointed that the clowns were going to live. 

The scenery melted seamlessly into his old bedroom back home, complete with all the badly constructed plastic airplane models he had ever labored over, flying from silver threads above his head. He smiled and tried to touch one, but they soared out of reach. He turned, trying to count them, marveling at the balletic swoops and dives. They wove in and out, their threads gleaming, propellers a silent blur, both skimming his hair and just out of reach. As he completed the turn around, a touch to his shoulder made him jump. He ducked instinctively, reaching for his gun, but his hand just came up with a Barbie doll. Frowning down at the frothy pink toy he had pulled out of his boxers, his eyes gradually rose up, registering the bare legs in front of him. 

"Hi." 

He looked up and stared. Kathy stood smiling at him, wearing just an NYPD dress uniform hat and shirt. Through the unbuttoned gap down her front, he could see she was naked. 

"Hi," he whispered. His eyes couldn't decide where to settle, the cap or the gap in the blue shirt. Both were fascinating. "Why're you wearing those?" he asked. 

"I brought them back for you. They're yours." 

Doggett watched with his mouth slowly dropping as she lifted her hand to pull the cap off, her hair tumbling down to her shoulders. The action pulled the shirt open, exposing her body to him. "Here you are," she said, holding out the cap. 

"Thanks," Doggett replied, taking it. He glanced down. It was his hat. It even had the traces of red marker pen that Porkpie Patterson had used to write 'Johnny 99' years before. He let his hand drop to his side, flicking his eyes back to the strip of exposed skin. 

"This is yours, too," she told him, reaching to hold the edges of the shirt. "Do you want it back?" Doggett nodded slowly. 

Slowly, she shrugged her shoulders, sliding the shirt off her body, letting it fall to the floor in a billow of blue. Doggett didn't bother to watch it go. His attention was taken up by the naked woman in front of him. He allowed his eyes to trace every curve that he had only imagined before. There were faint silver tracks on her belly, evidence of maternity he recognized from his ex-wife. He found the marks strangely erotic. Kathy stood unashamed, as his eyes tracked over her body and Doggett felt himself growing hard. 

"I like you," Kathy whispered, stepping even closer. One hand came up to touch his chest. It was warm, but he shivered, nonetheless. 

"Yeah?" he breathed. 

She nodded, inching in so that her nipples brushed his skin. She moved to place her mouth to his lips. "Will you kiss me?" 

The words tickled his lips and without a second thought, Doggett leaned that fraction further and obliged. Their tongues found each other, caressed and slid inside each other's mouths. He closed his eyes, leaning in to both the kiss and her touch. As the kiss became less controlled, he felt her hand sliding down his chest, over his belly to slither under the elastic of his boxers. Doggett groaned as she cupped his balls, tipping his head back. Her touch felt good. He thrust gently into her hand. There was a whisper of moist breath as she kissed and licked her way along his neck. 

"Yeah," he muttered, closing his eyes as the wet kisses pecked their way down his body. He barely felt the tug of material as his boxer shorts slid down his legs; he just tightened the grip on the surreal objects he held in his hands. He groaned deep in his throat as her hand touched him, bringing him fully erect. He opened his eyes and grinned down, touching the top of her head with the two fingers that weren't wrapped around Barbie's waist. Kathy looked up at him, smiled, then still holding his gaze, guided his cock between her lips. Pulling in a sharp breath, Doggett laughed softly in delight. He stared back up at the ceiling, watching the circling planes, his hips gently thrusting back and forth. A yellow school bus floated past hanging from a frayed black thread, dozens of clowns leaning out of the open windows. Doggett jerked, flinching as one of them tumbled out and fell towards him in a blessedly silent scream, a green balloon trailing behind like a streamer of thin snot. It touched his hair, and Doggett jerked violently, trying to bat it away. He stopped short of letting rip the shout in his throat and turned his head from where it had been buried in the pillow. Gasping, he blinked in the dark, vaguely aware his hips were still blindly thrusting into the mattress. 

"Jesus..." he muttered, dragging his knees up to curl into a ball. His breath heaved in and out of his chest. Staring into the darkness, he gathered his wits, trying to slow his breathing to an acceptable level. 

Shame and the remnants of desire battled in his head. Logically, he knew he couldn't be held responsible for his subconscious thoughts, but he was angry at himself nonetheless. It seemed his dick had no sense of morality. He adjusted himself in his shorts, willing the last of his erection to subside. Next to him, Skinner snuffled in his sleep and cleared his throat. Doggett's head shot around to stare at the dim shape of Skinner's head, praying the other man stayed asleep. He didn't want a discussion as to why he was lying awake and hard as iron in the middle of the night. He waited long minutes for Skinner's breathing to settle down into a steady rhythm, staring at the ceiling, refusing to touch himself any more. 

In the dark, he pushed away stray images from the dream and sighed. The woman was his brother's wife. She was way off limits, even if he were still into women, for crying out loud. He frowned. And just what the hell was he doing, fantasizing about her when he all but lived with Skinner? He sighed with frustration. It was too goddamned complicated. Fuck pinning any damn label on himself and amateur psychoanalysis; he wasn't going to give himself a headache, going there. 

Pushing the covers carefully aside, he slipped from the bed. Maybe a drink of water would help him settle back down. Get out of the warm bed and walk around a bit, that should break the dream. Padding across the room, he opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway. Hesitating for a moment to orient himself, he nodded. Left for the stairs. As he moved away from the door, a muffled thump from what he knew was the master bedroom stalled him. He stood, holding his breath, wondering if everything was okay. Should he call out, or knock on the door to check? In the still of the night, Kathy's voice slipped under the gap at the bottom of the door. 

"For God's sake, Mike. Will you get the hell back into bed?" 

"I can't sleep." came the sharp reply. 

Doggett stood perfectly still, his conscience appalled that he was listening in, but rooted to the spot. The naturally nosy side of his nature won out over good manners. "Oh, stop being such a fucking drama queen and get into bed!" 

Doggett eyebrows rose in the dark. He wouldn't ever have pictured that word coming out of Kathy's mouth. He couldn't hear his reply, if there was one. He stood, motionless, eyes wide, blinking in the dark. 

"Look, I'm sick of arguing with you. I just want to get some sleep." 

This was a private argument, Doggett had absolutely no business listening in. He shifted his stance, relieving the weight from his bad leg and telling himself he really was going to move away. He took a halfhearted step to the side. 

"Oh for Christ's sake! He's your brother, Michael. That's all there is to it." 

Doggett felt a block of ice slide down his spine. His breath caught in the back of his throat and his whole body tensed up. "Yeah, so? I don't know the man, Kathy. Neither of us do." 

"What's to know?" Kathy's voice rose. "He saved our daughter's life - he's a good man!" 

"You don't know that." 

"What?!" 

"We just met him." 

"I do not believe you, Michael!" 

"Well..." 

"Oh for fuck's sake!" 

"Don't yell." 

"I feel like fucking yelling!" Kathy's voice rose to almost shouting pitch on the last word. "He's your flesh and blood! Not some axe murderer off the street! Your family!" 

Doggett blinked as if slapped. This was too much. Too personal. His mother always told him that eavesdroppers rarely hear good of themselves. And he found himself reluctantly agreeing with her. 

"Jesus, Kathy! I never said he was... I just don't think what you're saying..." 

"Yeah. That's right. You don't think. Michael Huckabee doesn't think of anything but himself. Not me. And certainly not Emily." 

Doggett exhaled quietly. He should go. Whatever was going on behind that door was not only far too personal for comfort, but was sharply reminiscent of a thousand arguments between him and Barb. He crept along the hallway, praying that neither of them would choose to leave the room just yet. He took the stairs two at a time, his injured leg complaining silently. Guilt and embarrassment followed him. He hadn't wanted this. Hadn't wanted to upset anyone. How the hell was he going to face either of them in the morning, knowing that they'd been fighting about him? Why they'd been fighting about him was something he hoped he'd never find out. 

He padded into the kitchen, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor. He hesitated. He couldn't recall where the light switch was. Shrugging, he stepped into the darkened room. Didn't matter. He knew where the sink was. Turning on the faucet, he glanced around for a glass. Everything had been tidied away after supper and he really wasn't in the mood to go hunting through the cupboards. Not after his intrusion upstairs. He bent down and sucked the water straight from the faucet. It was cold, running down the side of his face and onto his chest, bringing out goosebumps. 

"That's disgusting." 

Jumping wildly, Doggett bumped his top lip against the metal. He winced, turning around. Emily sat at the table, a cereal bowl in front of her. 

"Lord, Emily, you scared me half to death." Doggett said touching his finger to his mouth. "What on earth are you doing up so late?" 

"I woke up and was hungry." She waved her spoon at her bowl. "Want some?" 

Doggett shook his head. He tuned the water off and wiped his mouth on his arm. "No thanks. It's a little early for breakfast." 

"Okay." 

Shrugging, she went back to tipping the bowl up to fish out the last nuggets of cereal. Doggett watched her clean the bowl before setting the spoon down. "You... Um..." He scratched his head. "You not sleepy, then?" 

She shook her head. "They woke me up." 

"Ah..." Doggett didn't need to ask who 'they' were. "Okay." He and the child stared at one another. 

Eventually, she pushed her bowl away. "I don't like it when they fight," she said. 

"Uh huh." Doggett cradled his injured arm, wishing he'd bothered to put the sling back on. 

She wiped her finger around her bowl. "Did your mom and dad fight?" 

Doggett smiled. "Oh, sure. I think all parents do." He moved to sit on a chair. "Doesn't mean they don't love one another, though." Emily looked doubtfully at him.  
"Really, it doesn't. All married people go at it sometimes." He shrugged. "That's just the way it is." 

"Oh." She didn't look convinced. "Did you fight with Luke's mommy?" 

He nodded. "Sure." 

"But you still loved her?" 

"Yeah." 

Her eyes narrowed. "But you don't live with her anymore, do you?" 

Doggett closed his mouth. She had him there. He didn't think she'd appreciate the distinction between nostalgia and lies. "Well..." 

"You live with Walter now, don't you?" 

Doggett swallowed. "Um. Kinda. Sometimes." This was a subject he wasn't going any further with. 

"Because you and Luke's mom aren't friends any more?" 

Doggett sighed from the bottom of the hole a 6 year old had watched him dig. "Sort of. But not really." He looked at the expression on her face. "It's not the same as your mom and dad." 

"Why not?" 

Because you're still alive, he silently replied. Out loud, he said: "Because I didn't meet Walt until a long time after Barb and I broke up." 

"Oh." 

That seemed to satisfy her, much to Doggett's relief. He rubbed the top of his arm. The slight chill in the room was making his skin pucker. He glanced at the kitchen clock. "Hey, Emily Rose. Don't y'think it's time you popped back to bed? I mean, it is kinda late." 

"I thought it was too early," she teased, waving her spoon at him. 

"Oh, ha ha," Doggett grinned. "Very funny, Miss Smartypants." 

Putting the spoon in her mouth, Emily slipped from the chair and took her bowl over to the sink and dropped it in. The spoon followed noisily. She walked back over to the table. "Will you carry me up?" she asked. 

Doggett shook his head, smiling. "I'm sorry, hon. I don't think I'm up to that just yet." He held his arm up. "It's kinda sore right now." 

In the moonlight, she peered closer, her dark eyes taking in the cast and the bruises on his chest and thigh. Doggett shifted, uncomfortable, aware of the state of his undress. "That's a nasty bruise," she said, pointing at his leg. 

He put his hand down to cover the mark. "Yeah... It's comin' along real good." The moonlight did him the favor of not showing her the full extent of his injuries, and kept her from catching sight of anything else. "I'm sorry I can't carry you, baby." He tickled her under the chin. "Maybe another time." 

"S'okay. You need to get better." She touched his plastered arm. "If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything," she told him solemnly. 

Doggett burst out laughing. "Where d'you hear that?" 

"Gramma." 

He shook his head, laughing softly. "Well, she's quite right. Okay, now... Off you go. Up those stairs, madam." 

"G'night, Uncle John Jay," she said, reaching up on tiptoe to put her arms around his neck. 

Doggett hooked his good arm around her back and hugged hard. "Night, Sweatpea," he whispered, breathing in the familiar smell of Johnson's baby shampoo and warm child. The scent was comforting. Surprisingly, no sharp stab of pain at the memories it conjured. "Sleep tight," he whispered. 

As her arms slid away, something prickled at the base of his neck and he looked up. Michael stood silent, in the doorway. Shit. Doggett thought. Shit, shit, shit. He opened his mouth a couple of times, experimenting with a sensible reason as to why he was sitting in the kitchen, half naked in the middle of the night with his arms wrapped around a small child. Michael stepped into the room and Doggett flinched slightly, drawing his hand back to cradle his cast. 

"Hi, Daddy," Emily said, stepping back. "I was just going back to bed. Honest." She glanced back at Doggett. "I was, wasn't I, Uncle John?" 

He nodded. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "See you in the morning, hon." 

With a grin, she slipped past her father and darted up the stairs. Doggett stared at the other man, lost for something to say. He was just standing in the doorway with his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his expression steely. 

"I... Um. I just came down for a drink of water," he began. 

Mike spoke as if he hadn't heard him. "Why was Emily out of bed?" 

Doggett swallowed. He didn't beat around the bush. "She was hungry," he answered truthfully. He didn't add that it was their fighting that had woken the child in the first place. 

"She knows she shouldn't wander the house at night." 

"Oh." Doggett squirmed as his brother approached, desperately uncomfortable. He had nothing to do with Emily's decision to eat cereal in the early hours, but he felt guilty, nonetheless. Michael sat opposite, staring at Doggett. 

"So..." he said, slowly. "You know, this doesn't look good?" Doggett frowned, not understanding, then his mouth fell open as the penny dropped. 

chapter twenty five. 

Doggett shook his head. "I don't even wanna entertain what I think you're insinuating." Michael just looked at him, saying nothing. "Jesus Christ! Are you totally nuts, man? She's just a little girl!" Doggett bit down hard. "I can't believe what you're thinking." Michael shrugged and just looked pointedly at Doggett's naked chest and boxers. Doggett narrowed his eyes. "I just got outta bed. I didn't expect to run into anyone else at this time of night, okay?" 

"Clearly." 

They stared at one another with identical expressions of barely controlled fury. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of Doggett's stomach, rolling and heaving with the implications of what was unspoken, yet clearly being suggested. The very idea made him ill. He held his fist up, slowly uncurling his index finger to point. His voice was low, angry. "Listen to me. I'm not gonna say this twice. Do NOT confuse being gay with being a child molester, you hear me, you sick bastard? I like men. Not children. Man, you need some serious fuckin' help if you can't tell the difference." 

"What am I supposed to think when..." 

Doggett stepped forward, his finger stabbing between gray eyes. "The only reason you're still standin' here in front of me and not knelt down pickin' up your teeth is because you're my brother. Although that courtesy doesn't seem to extend both ways." 

He watched Michael swallow while holding his gaze. The man took a slight step backwards and Doggett followed, moving forward to invade his personal space. "Let me tell you somethin' about child molesters, Michael. I see them in my line of work. I see plenty of them. And you're right, they come in all shapes and sizes. Most of them disguised as ordinary looking men - but inside, monsters like you'd never believe. And the bitch of it is, you look for them everywhere, but you almost never... Ever. See. Them. Coming." He stabbed his finger, at each word, making Michael flinch. His face contorted. "Monsters are out there, mark my words. They hide; God knows I didn't see the fucker coming for my son, but don't look for them where they don't exist. And don't you ever... EVER look at me like you think I'm one of them. You hear me?" 

His breath was ragged, coming in uneven surges. Blood pounded, kicking off the start of another headache. He leaned just that little bit closer until his nose was inches away from Michael's and lowered his voice to a growl. "You hear me?" 

"Yeah." The word whispered out, it's shocked sigh puncturing Doggett's anger. He let his hand drop down from under Michael's nose. His head bowed and shook from side to side. 

"Fuck," he sighed. 

Michael held his gaze for a moment, then his eyes dropped to the floor, guilty. "Look, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean..." 

"The hell you didn't." 

"Hey - I'm sorry. I didn't know." 

"No. You didn't." 

"Guys?"  
Doggett turned. Kathy stood, arms folded in the doorway. A toweling gown was wrapped around her shoulders. "What's going on?" She walked over to them, looking from one to the other. 

Doggett took a breath. He cradled his broken arm and looked up at her. "Nothin'." 

"Hhmmmmmm. Sounds like it." 

She looked over at Michael who shrugged without speaking. With both his head and his arm throbbing nastily, Doggett didn't feel like letting the other man off the hook. 

"Tell you what, Kathy, I'm glad you're here, 'cos it means I won't have to explain later why Walt and me are gonna be headin' out first thing." He gave Michael a grim look. "Seems to me like I'm not welcome 'round here." 

"Oh, John, what on earth makes you say that?" Kathy reached and touched his arm. 

Doggett glared across the table. "Ask him." 

His brother looked up. "You are welcome, John. I'm just..." He sighed, rubbing his face. "Hell, I don't know." 

Doggett grunted. "Yeah, right. We both know well enough what the problem is. And that just about turns you inside out, doesn't it? Well, you know what? I don't need to take any shit from you, I can get that from any small-minded asshole on the street." 

Michael's mouth popped open in shock. "What did you call me?" 

"You heard." 

"I resent that." 

"Like I give a shit." The two men stared at one another. 

"Michael? What the hell's going on here?" Kathy jerked her chin towards her husband. "Have you said something?" Doggett snorted, turning away slightly. Kathy clucked in her throat. "So this IS his doing? I might have guessed." Kathy folded her arms. "Well, in that case, John's right. You ARE an asshole, Michael Huckabee." 

"What?" 

"A Grade-A prime asshole." 

"Kathy..." 

"For God's sake, why on earth does who John chooses to sleep with, bother you?" Mike shrugged silently.   
Kathy threw her arms up. "Jesus! What IS your problem?" Doggett watched the silent struggle on his brother's face. She swatted the back of his head. "Will you get a damned grip?" she exclaimed. "It's not like he's asked YOU to fuck him, for God's sake!" 

Both men's jaw dropped at that.   
"Katherine!" 

She threw up her hands. "What?" 

"Jesus!" Michael pulled a face. 

"Oh, just get a grip! You haven't even seen him and Walt so much as touch, let alone kiss." She shook her head. "I didn't know you were such a dumbass homophobe, Mike." 

"I'm not!" 

"You are." 

"I'm..." 

Kathy held up her hand. "You are. And I'm disappointed. I thought I married a better man than that." 

Michael's face creased up at her words. "I..." he began, then stopped. His eyes moved to Doggett's face, then dropped to study the table. "Shit." He sat heavily in the chair Emily had left out. No-one spoke. The kitchen clock ticked away in the silence. Doggett stared at the top of the sandy head, feeling his anger and indignation slip away, leaving just disappointment behind. 

"So what have you got to say for yourself, then?" Kathy tapped a fingernail into the spiky hair. No gray yet, Doggett noted. 

At length, Michael sighed. "Hell, I don't know." 

"Yes, you do." 

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. "You want me to apologise?" 

"That'd be an honest start." 

He sighed. "Well, if you want me to be honest, how about if I admit I'm kinda freaked out and disappointed not to get a regular brother." He jerked his chin up. 

Doggett raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Thanks. Big of you." 

"I mean, you're... 

"Yeah. We both know what you mean." 

Michael glanced up to give him a wry look. "This isn't going well, is it?" 

"No," Both Kathy and Doggett replied together. 

Looking down at the table, Michael shook his head, more at himself than them. He held his hands up in submission. "Okay, okay. I'm guilty. I'm an asshole." He raised his eyebrow when he didn't get any argument. "I guess I deserve that. But I'm having a tough time dealing with all the implications of..." He pulled a face. "Of having a gay man for a brother." 

"Such as?" 

Michael sighed. "Well, what do we tell..." 

Kathy held a hand up. "Don't tell me you're gonna say, the neighbors? What the hell does it matter? Jesus, Mike! Who gives a shit about that, any more?" 

"I was going to say, what are we going to tell Emily?" 

"We tell her the truth. That her Uncle John loves Walter. Simple as that." 

Michael shook his head. "It's never that easy." 

"It's only complicated if you allow it to be. Dammit, Mike, why can't you just be happy to get a brother, period? I'd rather our daughter grew up with an appreciation of love, rather than any small-mindedness and bigotry." She poked his arm. "Wouldn't you?" 

"I guess so." 

She poked harder. "Mean it." 

Michael gave her a glare, but he couldn't maintain it for long. "Dammit, Kath..." He sighed and studied his hands. Doggett and Kathy just sat and watched him. Eventually, he got to his feet, wincing. "Okay. I give in. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have implied..." He waved his hand. "Well, you know." 

"No, you shouldn't have." Doggett told him, more calmly than he imagined. 

"Yeah. Okay." 

They regarded one another warily, neither willing to bridge the gap between them. Doggett still stung, offended by Michael's offhand accusation and reluctance to see beyond the gender of his chosen partner. 

"You don't have to go, you know," Kathy said to him, interrupting his thoughts. 

Doggett shook his head. "No, I know. Thank you, but I think it'd be best." He nodded across at the other man. "It's a lot to take on board, I guess." 

"No, it isn't, John." Kathy reached out and touched his shoulder. "You're family, now. He just hasn't worked that out yet." 

Doggett looked up at her and smiled. "Yet?" 

She grinned down. "He will; soon. I promise." 

Doggett glanced across the table. Michael's face was pained. "You're in trouble, now," he told his brother, shaking his head, grinning. 

"Yeah. Tell me about it." Michael winced. 

"We're just going to have a quiet talk, aren't we, darling?" Kathy smiled down at her husband. He sighed. 

"Yes, dear." 

Kathy squeezed his shoulder. "This is between Mr. Huckabee and me, John. Let's leave it, now and start over tomorrow, shall we?" She tapped her hand on his arm, indicating he should get up. Doggett rose, obediently and began to make his way towards the doorway. Halfway across the kitchen, Doggett stopped and looked at his brother. He raised his eyebrows. "Can we?" 

"What?" 

"Start over?" 

The gray eyes searched his face. "You want to?" 

Doggett stared at the other man for a moment then reaching a decision, nodded. "I'd like to." 

"Okay." Michael inclined his head. "Tomorrow, then." 

* * *

Creeping back into the bedroom, Doggett slid slowly beneath the covers. He lay on his back, staring at a darkened ceiling, trying to sort out his emotions. Despite Michael's words, he wasn't sure his brother was the least bit comfortable with him in his life, let alone his house. 

"You okay? You were gone a long time. I was worried." Skinner's quiet inquiry made him jump. He turned his head to look at the other man. 

"Yeah... No." He sighed. "I don't know." 

Skinner smiled, the moonlight showing up his teeth. "Okaaay. You want to give me a clue as to what that means?" 

Doggett looked back up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure how Michael feels about me. About us." 

"He seemed okay this evening." 

"Yeah, well. I know different." 

Skinner shifted in the bed a little. "Maybe it takes a bit of getting used to, you know. The gay thing." 

Doggett turned back to him. "The 'gay' thing?" 

Skinner shrugged. "Took a bit of getting used to for you, didn't it?" Doggett closed his mouth. There wasn't much he could say to that. "All I'm saying is, maybe you want to give him time to get his head around the fact his new brother likes dick." 

Chuffing out a choked laugh at the dead-pan delivery of the line, Doggett reached under the covers and poked Skinner in the belly. "Hey... I like this particular dick, not dick in general, mister." 

"Yeah." Skinner grinned again. "Lucky for me." He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned in for a kiss. Doggett relaxed into the embrace, surprising himself at the small twitch of interest in his groin. He grinned up at the face looming above him. 

"Nice." 

"I try." Skinner's hand wandered across to rest on a hip. "How d'you feel?" 

"Not so bad." Doggett took a deep breath, expanding his chest. "That pain-killer seems to have done the trick. I'm pretty much okay right now." 

"So..." The hand slithered across to rest over Doggett's pubic bone. "You okay enough to...?" He let the sentence trail off. 

Doggett smiled. "What did you have in mind?" 

"Oh... I was just thinking you might like to be reminded how much you like this particular dick." 

"Y'think?" 

"Absolutely." Skinner kissed him again, running a finger up and down his groin. 

Laughing softly, Doggett reached up to flick a fingernail against Skinner's forehead. "So you think I'm easy?" 

Wandering fingers slid down Doggett's growing erection. "Oh, I think you're hard as iron, Mr. Doggett." 

Chuckling, Doggett felt Skinner's hand easing his boxers down over his hips, lifting himself slightly to allow the shorts to slide down his thighs. Five minutes ago he would have bet money on him lying awake the rest of the night, worrying himself silly about what had happened in the kitchen. He would never have imagined being the slightest bit horny; but as Skinner's warm hands massaged his cock to life, he found himself grinding up into the fist, his pulse rate rising, heart starting to pound. He groaned softly in appreciation. 

"You up for this?" Skinner whispered. 

"What does it feel like?" Doggett gasped. 

"I meant here; in this house. You okay with this?" 

Doggett paused, considering. All his inhibitions seemed to have been pushed aside in the aftermath of the confrontation downstairs, leaving nothing but desire for physical contact. His brother might not be happy with his life choice, but he was. "Yeah. I'm good." He pushed himself up into Skinner's hand. "So what are you gonna do about it?" 

Skinner chuckled. "Why don't you just roll over on your side and I'll show you." 

Doggett grinned. "On my side?" 

Skinner pushed at him. "Yep. Do as you're told, you skinny-assed sack of shit. Roll over." 

Huffing with mock indignation, Doggett did as he was told, rolling away from Skinner, presenting his back. He rubbed the side of his face in his pillow. "You'd better have somthin' interestin' in mind here, old man, or I'm gonna fall right off to sleep." 

Skinner pulled Doggett's shorts down past his knees. "Yeah? Don't count of getting any sleep just yet." He pinched Doggett's butt. "And who are you calling old?" 

Squeaking into his pillow, Doggett laughed, jerking his hips. He sighed and relaxed as he felt Skinner run his hand over his ass, reaching around to lightly touch his balls. He closed his eyes, shifting his legs apart a little. 

"Nice," he muttered as the fingers massaged firmly. 

Skinner trailed kisses over his shoulder and on his neck. "Hush." 

"Bossy." 

"Shhhhhh." 

Reaching around a hip, Skinner took his time, gently coaxing Doggett's erection to capacity. He trailed his fingers between the parted legs, past the balls and over his ass. Doggett sighed and grinned into his pillow, content. There was a pause, a rip of foil, another moment of anticipation and then a wet slide of cold fingers wandering along the crease of his crack. 

"Cold," he muttered. 

"Hush," Skinner told him again, rubbing the gel over his hole, making him shiver. Slowly, with gliding, luxuriant care, Skinner eased a finger inside, all the while, kissing and licking the back of Doggett's neck. He rocked his finger in and out, murmuring low words in the ear by his mouth. "You like that?" Another finger, deeper this time, stretching. "Yeah? S'that good?" 

Doggett groaned softly, pushing back. Skinner traced the edge of his ear with a wet tongue. "You want more?" he whispered. Doggett nodded, pushing himself into the hard fingers. "I'm gonna give you more..." Skinner's fingers slid out, pausing to flick sensuously over Doggett's prostate, making him shudder. An empty hearbeat, then the fingers were replaced by something much larger. A large cock rubbed against Doggett's entrance. "You want this?" 

An answering groan rumbled out. "Yeah..." 

Skinner pushed more firmly, stopping short of breaching the muscle. "You want this?" he teased. 

Doggett groaned. "Oh, yeah... Please." He pushed backwards. "Please..." 

Skinner brought his hand up to cover his mouth. "Hush... Quietly." With a slight flick of his hips, he pushed harder, popping past the ring of muscle, his hand catching the gasp and slight cry. "Shhhh. Take it... Come on... You know you can take it," he breathed in Doggett's ear. 

Holding his big hand over Doggett' s mouth, he rocked slowly, each stroke pushing deeper into the squirming body. With a final grunt and push, he buried himself to the root. Doggett's ass came to rest in his lap, both of them sighing in pleasure. 

"Yeah..." Skinner breathed. He pulled his hand away, turning Doggett's head towards him. Awkwardly, he leaned over and kissed, a wet and unco-ordinated mess. Doggett pulled away at last, neck muscles complaining. He squeezed his ass cheeks tightly. 

"More," he said softly. "Gimme more." 

Taking a hip in one hand, Skinner began a slow stroke in and out. He took care not to push too hard, nor hold on too tightly. Just used Doggett's hip to pull gently backwards. "Good," he muttered, biting at the base of Doggett's neck. 

"Harder," Doggett told him, thrusting back. 

"Shhhhhhh. Just let me." 

Skinner felt Doggett sigh and relax as he did as he was told. He slid in and out, a lazy thrust of wet heat that tickled and teased his cock all the way from the base to the tip. The friction dragged deliciously. He smiled, knowing from the reaction of Doggett's body, that it was having the same effect on him. 

"Jesus..." Doggett groaned, forcing his ass back to bump Skinner's groin. "Walt..." 

"I know," Skinner breathed into his hot neck. "I know." He adjusted his grip and angled his hips a touch and was rewarded with a deep rumble of appreciation. "That feel good?" he whispered. 

"Oh, God, yeah..." Doggett wriggled his ass and hips. "Harder. Now..." He started to squirm more urgently. 

Skinner grinned into the warm neck and paused. Doggett whined at the back of his throat. "What? Don't stop..." 

"Wait..." Reaching behind him, Skinner snagged his tee shirt from the floor by the bed. He moved to settle himself against Doggett's back. "Here..." He dropped the shirt at Doggett's groin. "Keep the sheets clean." A ropy chuckle rattled out of Doggett's throat as he took the shirt. Skinner kissed the back of his neck. "Now... Where was I?" He thrust his hips forward, making Doggett grunt. "Yeah... About there, I think." 

The room went silent but for the occasional groan and gasp. Skinner carefully slid home inside Doggett, bringing them both closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. Doggett tightened his ass hard, warning that he wasn't far off. 

"Oh, shit, man..." 

"Shhhh." Skinner slid his hand over the hip towards Doggett's groin. "Don't speak. Just feel me." He took Doggett's cock in his hand and squeezed. Doggett gasped and thrust forward, then back hard, as if uncertain which movement gave him the most pleasure. 

"Oh!" 

Skinner jerked his hips harder. "Feel that?" He snapped their bodies together. Doggett groaned, his hips moving frantically, in and out of Skinner's fist, his body trembling. Two or three more thrusts and he came, a low groan rattling in the back of his throat as his body emptied. Moments later, Skinner followed him, his own groan muffled as he bit down on Doggett's shoulder. 

They lay quietly for five minutes, bodies cooling, heart rates dropping and sweat drying on their skin. Eventually, Doggett sighed and looked down to wipe himself on the shirt. 

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered. 

Skinner chuckled. "Yeah." He slid out of Doggett's body and busied himself with the condom. "Not bad for a couple of old men." He dropped the knotted protection on the bedside table. "Remind me to get rid of that tomorrow. Don't want to give our hostess heart failure." 

"Make her smile, more like," Doggett muttered. 

"You think so?" 

"I reckon." Doggett threw the shirt on to the floor. He yawned and stretched. 

"Ready to sleep?" 

"Uh huh." 

"Good." Skinner took his shoulder and pulled him on to his back. 

"What?" 

"Come here." Skinner held his arm out, tapping his chest. 

Doggett grinned in the dark. "You wanna cuddle up, Assistant Director?" 

"Anything wrong with that?" Skinner asked, smiling. 

"Nope." Doggett rolled over carefully and fitted his body against Skinner's. "Nothin' at all." He yawned again and sighed, feeling sleep creeping up on him already. "Night, big guy. And thanks." 

Skinner grunted and placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Shut up and go to sleep." 

chapter twenty six. 

Doggett slept soundly through Skinner waking; he snored through everyone taking noisy showers and only stirred as the smell of grilling bacon crept up the stairs. Dragging his aching and pleasantly sore body out from under the warm covers was an exercise in self-discipline enforced by an insistent bladder. He eventually emerged from the bedroom, stomach rumbling, jeans hanging open and trying to tug a short-sleeved shirt on over his cast. As hard as he tried, he couldn't manage to pull the other side of his shirt up his arm enough to get his arm in. He hovered halfway down the stairs. "Walt?" he called. "Can you gimme a hand, here?" 

"He's down in the garden." Kathy called from the kitchen. "What's up?" 

"I'm havin' some trouble gettin' my clothes together," he called back, frowning at the shirt hanging from his plastered arm. 

"Oh." The sound of her soft laughter trickled up to him. 

"Gee, thanks for the sympathy. I could really use some help here." 

She laughed again. "I'll be right up." 

Doggett's eyebrows shot up. "No! I mean... I'd rather Walt helped out." No way he wanted her to see him half-clothed, let alone contemplate having her touch him. 

"Well, he's all the way down in the vegetable garden, John." 

"Okay. I'll wait." He sat down on the stairs and sighed, resting his chin on his good hand. His sister in law was not going to put her hands anywhere near his fly. No sir. Not after where his mind had gone, last night. 

He looked up at the creak of the bottom step. His hand automatically covered his crotch. "I've been dispatched to give you a hand." Michael stood at the bottom of the stairs. He gave a tight smile and a shrug. "If you'll let me, that is." 

"I..." Doggett hesitated; Fresh starts were all very well, but he'd had more of a mug of coffee and chat in mind. 

Michael held up a hand, interrupting. "Actually, I'd be grateful if you would. I'm not sure I want to piss my wife off any more than I already have." He gave a little shrug, the look on his face making Doggett smile. 

"You still in disgrace?" 

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe." 

Laughing, Doggett shook his head. "I know how that goes." 

"I doubt it." 

"I was married, remember?" 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I guess." After a pause, he sighed and indicated with his hand. "So. You gonna let me help you out?" 

Doggett glanced down at his jeans and shirt. He stood up, allowing his hand to fall away from his fly, letting the other man know that the problem wasn't just with the shirt. Looking down, he spoke with carefully measured tones. "You okay with this?" 

Michael shrugged. "Yeah." 

"Sure?" 

Reaching up to tug both sides of Doggett's jeans together, Michael nodded. "Yeah, well... I'm guessing I'm not your type." 

Chuckling, Doggett sucked his stomach in as the buttons were fastened one at a time. "You got that right." 

He stared at the top of Michael's head as he tackled the pants. He was impressed. No shaking fingers. Although it was a little weird having someone other than Walt's fingers stuffed down the front of his pants. "Guess I should've gone with the zippers, huh?" 

Michael grunted, jamming the top button through the hole. "Would have been just a about a million times less weird." 

"Tell me about it." 

With a heartfelt sigh, Michael looked up. "All done. Now turn around, let me get the shirt." 

Doggett obeyed, carefully turning full circle on the narrow step. Michael pulled the shirt over his shoulder and held it out to one side. "Get your arm in here." Pushing his hand down the sleeve, he couldn't help the smile at the look of grim concentration on his brother's face. The end of his tongue poked out as he threaded the tiny buttons through their holes. Studiously fastening and straightening the material as he went along. Each time he moved on to the next hole, Doggett could feel the brush of his fingers against his bare chest. He wondered if that bothered the younger man. He was doing a good job of hiding it, if it did. He spoke quietly. "Thank you." 

Michael's eyes flicked up. "You're welcome." He hesistated. "Look, about last night..." 

Doggett held up his hand. "Let's not, okay?" 

"But I wanted to say I'm sorry. About what I said." 

"Okay." 

"And about your son." 

Doggett inhaled sharply. His lips pressed together. He gave a shap nod, not knowing what to say. Michael just nodded back. He didn't add or ask anything else, much to Doggett's relief. Then he smiled, and gave the shirt one last tug. "Okay, bro'. You're presentable. Let's go eat." 

* * *

"Are you sure we can't tempt you to one more day?" Kathy handed Skinner the last of the sandwich bags. 

"We'd love to, but unfortunately we'll miss our flight." Skinner sighed and glanced up at the mountainside. "I think you have a marvelous place. It's a real shame we can't explore the area more." 

"All those trees, Walter..." Doggett mock shivered, sitting on the porch steps. "Really floats your boat, huh?" 

Skinner gave him a look. "Urban philistine." 

Doggett laughed, the sound bringing Tinkerbell over to demand attention. He scrubbed at the lab's ears. "Promise I'll let you take me to play in more trees one day." Skinner grunted as he laid the lunches Kathy made on the back seat. 

Emily pushed Tink out from between Doggett's legs and rested her hands on his knees, staring up. "Uncle John Jay, can I still come visit you in the city sometime?" 

"Of course you can, Sweetheart. Whenever you're near, just call me and we'll meet up, okay?" He tickled under her chin. She giggled, moving out of range of his teasing fingers. "You just make sure to bring your mom and dad, okay?" 

"Do I have to?" 

"Well, I guess so. Until you're at college, anyways." 

"Okay. Then I'll come visit by myself." 

Doggett smiled. "It's a deal." 

"There's a chance we're coming to DC nearer the summer..." Kathy began. 

"I'd be offended if you didn't come by and see us." 

She smiled. "Sure?" 

"Absolutely." He looked up to include Michael. "I mean it." The other man stood under the porch, his hands in his pockets, watching. He caught Doggett's glance and smiled slightly and nodded. Doggett returned the gesture. 

Kathy touched his shoulder. "Okay. We'll let you know, then." 

"Cool!" Emily pulled Tinkerbell away from Doggett's crotch. "Have you got a big house, John? Can we bring Tink to see you?" 

Doggett smiled. "I guess. There's a yard, anyways. He could play there." 

"I think we'll leave the dog with the pet care people, Em," Kathy smiled. "I'm sure John's house isn't dog-proof." 

"Oh." 

Skinner slammed the rear door shut. "Okay. I think we're set. John? You ready?" 

Doggett rose from his perch. "As I'll ever be. Let's get goin'." He stretched the kinks out from his legs and joined Skinner at the rental. "Thank you again for invitin' us here," he said, smiling at Kathy. "You have a lovely house." 

She grinned. "And you have lovely manners. Now come here." She held her arms out to him. Doggett stepped into the embrace. She held him tightly and he enjoyed the contact without guilt. "Don't be a stranger, okay?" she whispered into his ear. 

"I won't." 

"And I'll call you when we're coming over, yes?" 

"You'd better." He looked at her as she pulled away. She winked and grinned, patting his cheek. 

"Such a cute brother in law." 

Doggett ducked his head, laughing. "Get outta here," he muttered. 

Kathy mock shoved him and moved over to Skinner. She pointed. "You take care of him and yourself, Walt, you hear?" 

"Yes ma'am." 

"Oh, I love to hear a man say that!" She reached up and hugged him briefly. "I'd better not look as if I'm enjoying this too much, had I? Don't want to make the old man jealous," she laughed. 

"Who you callin' old?" Michael stepped out to hold a hand out to Skinner. "I'm the youngest guy here, woman." He and Skinner shook hands. "Besides, I don't think you're their type." 

There was a heartbeat when all three adults absorbed the comment and faltered over its implications, then Skinner threw his head back and laughed. "You sure about that? I mean this is one fine looking lady." 

Michael glanced over to Doggett who shrugged. "Hey - he's right. She's a fox, Mike." 

Kathy laughed and batted at them, blushing. "Oh, behave!" 

Michael shook his head, grinning. "Man... Let's not even start this, okay?" He held his hand out to Skinner. "Look, Walter, I'm glad I got to meet you. Really. I mean that." 

Skinner nodded. "The pleasure's mine, Mike. Thank you for your hospitality. And I hope you'll come to see us soon." 

Michael nodded, stepping back. His foot came down close to Emily's and she squealed. 

"Daddy!" 

"Hey, sorry baby. Clumsy me." He turned. "You okay?" 

"Uh-huh." She peered around his leg. "Is it okay if I kiss John's Walter goodbye?" 

Mike hesitated for a second, then smiled, nodding. "Sure it is, honey." 

Emily stood in front of Skinner, waiting for him to get the idea and bend down. "Bye bye, Walter. Thank you for saving me." She reached up and kissed his cheek. 

"Goodbye, Emily. I hope we meet again soon." He patted her shoulder, a wide grin all over his face. 

Turning, the child pointed at Doggett. "Make sure you look after John Jay, okay? He's still got lots of hurt places." 

Skinner nodded solemnly. "I'll take very good care of him. Don't you worry about that." 

"Kay." She walked over to Doggett. "Bye, Uncle John. Thank you for saving me." 

"I'm very glad I did," Doggett smiled, bending down carefully. He leant in, nose to nose. "See you soon, sweetheart." He kissed the end of her nose. She giggled and did the same to him then ran to her mother's side. Doggett straightened up. Michael had moved to stand in front of him. "Hey," he said, wondering what was coming next. 

"Hey," Michael nodded back. He stuffed his hands in his jeans and seemed to struggle for something to say. "Look, about before..." 

Doggett held up his good hand. "No. We're startin' over, remember? It's forgotten. Let's just move on." 

The other man looked at him. "Yeah?" 

"You bet." 

Michael paused a long time then shook his head. "I gotta say you're being a damn sight more generous about this than I think I would be, in your position." 

"I figure I need a brother more than I need another enemy." 

Michael smiled. "Don't we all?" He stared at Doggett for a long moment, then held his hand out. "Forgive me?" 

Doggett's mouth twitched with a cautious smile. He reached up and took the proffered hand. "I guess I can do that." 

Michael smiled. "Okay." He held the clasp. "Well. I guess you should be getting on. See you soon, perhaps?" 

"I'd like that," Doggett replied, honestly. 

He was holding hands longer than Doggett imagined. He was just starting to wonder if this was some sort of experiment, seeing how long he could bear to touch a gay man. Or to see if queerness rubbed off. Words to that effect were perched on the tip of his tongue, but Michael stilled any sarcastic comment by pulling his arm. Confused and still firmly joined at the hand, Doggett had no choice but to move forward. He frowned. "What?" 

Michael sighed, dropping his hand. "Help me stop being as asshole?" he whispered. 

Doggett smothered a grin. "Hey, I'm over forty already. How long you think I've got?" 

"Oh, very funny." 

Doggett grinned. "You asked." 

Michael sighed and held out his hands. "Can I get a hug." 

Doggett felt his breath catch. He frowned. Was he serious? He stood perfectly still, trying to read the gray eyes. 

"Jeez!" Michael flapped his arms. "Do I gotta beg?" He lowered his voice. "Look. I promise not to scream and cry rape, okay?" He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "I just want a hug from my big brother." 

Smiling, Doggett stepped forward a shade and carefully put his arms around the other man. He felt the rasp of beard against his face and warm tee-shirt on his bare arm and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the moment. Not much different from the hug he'd gotten when he first arrived, only this time, he was ready for it and better yet, it was given with full knowledge about his sexuality. His brother might not be completely comfortable with it just yet, but at least he was making an effort. And that was all that mattered. He felt a sigh against his neck and smiled, speaking without pulling away. "Freaked out yet?" 

Michael chuckled. "Nah. Sorry to disappoint you, but this is kinda nice." He rubbed both hands up and down Doggett's back. "I guess I must like having a brother more than I thought." 

"Even a gay one?" 

Michael squeezed him hard for a second and chuckled. "I guess you'll do just fine." Doggett chuckled, relishing the hug. He breathed deeply, committing the moment to memory. He reluctantly loosened his grip. Holding Michael at arm's length, he grinned. 

"Thanks." 

"What for?" 

"That. It was nice." 

Michael nodded. "Yeah. It was." 

Kathy tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey... When you two have quite finished bonding." She pulled Michael away and slipped in front of Doggett. "We'll be on your doorstep before you know it, John." 

He laughed. "Fine by me." 

"Oh, you might well change your mind after we descend on your place." 

"I'll risk it," he said as she hugged him briefly. He smiled and pulled himself away. "You take care now, y'hear?" he said as he walked around the car. 

"Yes sir." She grinned at him. "Mr. Eff Bee Eye." 

Skinner opened the car door and Doggett eased himself into the seat. He slid the window down and held his arm safe as Skinner slammed the door shut. "See you," he said, waving. 

Skinner walked around the car and got behind the wheel. The engine started up and with a quick bip on the horn, Skinner began to pull away up the steep drive. As they began the long climb up the driveway, Doggett kept his eyes on the small group. Emily stood behind her parents on the porch steps waving frantically. He raised his hand in the rear window, still watching and smiling, until the car turned, leveling out around the corner and the last glimpse of the house was gone. He lowered his hand but continued to stare out of the back window. 

"You okay?" Skinner touched his thigh. 

Doggett sighed then nodded, turning round. "Yeah." 

"Sure?" 

"I'm fine. Just..." He glanced back. 

"What?" 

Doggett smiled, thinking about what he was feeling at that moment. "Nothin'. Just happy, I guess." 

Skinner glanced at him. His hand squeezed his leg. "Good." 

Closing his eyes as they drove into the morning sunshine, Doggett thought about the past few days. His body might feel a hundred and three, but inside, he felt good. Comfortable and with a sense of hope for the future. 

"Hey..." 

He opened his eyes and looked at Skinner. "What?" Skinner slowed the car and pulled up on the verge. Doggett looked at him. "What?" 

Leaning over, Skinner placed his mouth on Doggett's giving him a slow, gentle kiss. Eventually, Skinner pulled away, then putting the car in gear and pulling out into the road. 

"What was that for?" Doggett asked at last. 

"Oh, I don't know." Skinner looked both ways before pulling out at a crossroad. 

"Maybe because I felt like it." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"This have anything to do with your kinky weakness for Piglets?" 

Skinner nodded. "Something like that."  
Doggett smiled and closed his eyes, content. 

Fin.   
  

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